Black Tax

Some say it’s black tax. I call it Voluntary Social Investment  (VSI).

I call it an investment into the future of black child. Into my own blood that runs through my veins. The same blood that contributed into making me who I am. The same blood that made my wildest dreams come true.

Why is it tax? Was it not investment when it was someone’s turn to pay it for me?

I grew up curious and secretly meddled up in my parents, aunts and their friends’ business.

Camping in my parent’s bedroom when they leave the house was my favourite pastime. I’d roam through drawers, read their payslips and bank statements; try to understand their many insurance policies and what they mean, how they work. sometimes one would also listen to their conversations about their challenges and their future plans (what does an ear do when its idle? It listens).

I learnt a lot in this time. I got to know what it took for everything to be so beautiful and rosy. I was privy to the tensions of needing to get things done and the universe saying NO. I overheard mom’s conversations with her friends trying to support each other, figuring out how to change the story from one of abject poverty to one of bright positive change.

They did great, here we are, living proof! Those Mashonisa journeys and endless stokvel deals of who is doing what for whom have paid off. Most of my parents’ circles and families have had opportunities to change the story from one of lack and poverty to one of education, success and riches for some.

I saw families and friends come together and support one another. This exchange has continued to produce noble citizens, educated loved ones and a few riches too! I realise when I look upon the generations before them that, it has been quite a generational journey, making means to make tomorrow better than yesterday for society.

So, when it is my turn to do same, I always think to myself,

“Dear God, why do I owe such honour? To be a tool that advances a fellow human being into their future!”

Now, I say this knowing that I have not always seen things this way. One has gone and neglected some parts that contributed to where we are because it was easier and convenient to do so. Thinking that one needs to satisfy oneself more therefore someone else will do it. It does haunt me though sometimes. I guess I always think to myself, I wish I had chosen differently. I recognise also that I did not have today’s wisdom then. So I endeavour to forgive myself every time regret surfaces instead of vilifying myself with perpetual guilt.

It is sometimes easier to be in the receiving end than it is to be in the giving one. Giving takes heart. This is because for you to give sometimes, it means pausing something in your own plan.

It means recognising that someone needs more than you want therefore you choose for them to have what they need instead as a gesture of Ubuntu.

When the heart sees that gesture as tax, then maybe you should not even bother! Blessed is the heart that gives freely and lovingly. It is an investment in a human being. Not a liability in your balance sheet.

For we are here to serveWhen you give freely upon your own recognition of need and your decision to change that story, the universe rewards you immensely.

I know this because I am living proof of God’s mercy and investment in his people. I know it through every gesture of kindness that lands on my lap just as I need it while scratching my head trying to figure out how to move ahead in this journey called life.

Thank you for life, Jah.

Thank you for every human being that sees my need and decides to change my story. I hope your investment in me pays off and reverberates for generations to come.

I thank YOU❤.

My Investment

I choose to invest in my society.

In this era of investing, the craze about share trading, financial wealth literacy etc. that has taken over the landscape, I realise how risk averse I am.

Yes, risk is my middle name.

I risk it all, all the time.

But not this time.

It is worrying me that everyone is on the same bandwagon. It scares me that if we all follow that same route of putting our money in other people’s potty (instead of our own), we fall into the trap of losing our everything to a few already wealthy and greedy business people waiting to pounce on our hard-earned rewards. Just to add a few more billions to their riches.

– Why and how do stock markets crash?

– Who benefits the most and who loses the most?

– How do the investees account for the losses?

Until such a time when I can answer these questions above and feel ease that it is worth the risk, I will continue to put my money where my mouth is; building and investing in my children and future generation’s real future, our society.

I believe that if we all put our money where our mouths are, investing in developing our own societies; we would not need to take such high risks considering we are considered the bottom of the food chain by the very people we want to entrust with our treasures and futures.

Wake up black child, are you free or are you dom?

Freedom, financial freedom, is not a bank balance nor a share certificate.

Once upon a time

Once upon a time
There was black and white
Two distinct colours
Two distinct lines
Black this side
White the other side
Black was black, true to the core
White alike,

Then there was a movement
They called it the rainbow
New spectrum aglow
Black
Zulu, Xhosa
South African
Congolese

White
English
German
Lebanese

Did we move forward
Or slid to a new direction
Hating on each other
Black on black,
Not black enough
White on white
Not white enough

New Movement in progress?
Shades of grey
Generation x
Generation y
Generation we want it all
And don’t give a shit
Whose toes we step on,
Our souls are the price tag
Give me the moola
And I’ll show you what I got
And you can have it all
My soul is all you need.
And you can have it all

Once upon a time there was soul
Twas enough to make me whole
now its just a big hole
but there’s still hope
after the storm
there is a rainbow,
waiting patiently
maybe I’ll get to see it too.

Adorned

The gods adore her, adorned her with beauty
Man sees her, ceases the opportunity
Woman envies her, envisions her sways theirs
I love her, move the heaven and earth for her.

She was never made to be like all
Harsh to the world she seems
Sweet and tender she is inside
Not fazed by the compliments
Maintained that which is sacred to her

Drenching with sweat
The runs she longs for bitter sweet
Adrenalin pumping out of every inch of her
Fine curves sculpted into perfection
Men can only think perversion

The muse and inspiration
Lines can’t be defined
Is it a love for a sister
Envy the body and mind so sinister
Improper love and unwanted desire

Love it is, pure, untainted
No need to cross the lines
It is as it should be
This love can’t be lost
Even when not cherished
Its not phased by lack of voice
Conversations take place in silence
In the comfort of the heart
No need to be heard
Where it matters, it is known
And if it isn’t so
It’s still not lost.

To my son

pexels-photo-386009.jpegIf

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

The Nelson Mandela Bridge at night!!!!

nelson-mandela-bridge.jpg

Photo credit: © Sandisile Tshuma 2012

I have seen it, and I stumbled into this pic in one of the blogs I read now and again. And I really had to repost it.

Jozi people, there is an iconic bridge, just as fabulous as the icon its been named after. you will find it when you cross over from Jozi CBD to Braamfontein. Some have seen it, only in broad daylight.

This is one of the most amazing scenic Jozi night moments, that a lot miss out on, because “Joburg CBD is dangerous!!” Well, with sights like these, I will move heaven and earth, just to experience them. somehow the “Danger” always has mercy on me…. and no, it’s not because of the colours, its the magic in the bridge!!!

We have a beautiful city, and I don’t mean Sandton and all those areas people usually associate with the beauty of Jozi, I am referring to the downtown, the scary side, and you know what, I will keep posting these beautiful scenes. They have a lot to do with my love of this city. I am convinced there is magic in Jozi.

THEE Mini Country”Wo”Man Moment

Everyone that has conversations with me for more than 30 minutes eventually gets to know about that dream car of mine. Yes, the Mini CountryMan. It was love at first sight, upon stumbling into a pic purely out of utter coincidence. im not car crazy, have never been, so I never even bother with car mags. Somehow it landed up in my hands, with the Cooper as a “to be realeased” car of the future.

THEE Mini CountryMan

I made a promise to myself that it will be my next car when I get rid of my beloved car. The moment came, I sold my car, and I was ready for my Mini. Until I fell in love with a beautiful house, and the Mini took the back seat, For now. Till I get used to the hefty bond. Only in a few months time.

A few months have turned into forever, they are fast becoming a year or two. I’m shocked, happy, anxious, disappointed all at once. I’m living in my dream house, but my mini just seems to be further in the future.
To point that now, there is the latest kind of country.

The one that involves deliberating before taking each and every journey, the logistics have to be carefully planned. Ima be taking a “TAXI”. Yes, I take taxis now, and it never crossed my mind that after 6 years of owning a car, acquired in one single payment, I would land up here again.

I’m writing this, standing outside McDonald’s waiting for a friend, but now I can’t exactly just stand here and type away.
ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖NomnaMː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖
I’m compelled to grab a bite/drink close-by so I can be comfortable while waiting. This has become a trend and I seem to find coffee shops in weirdest corners in this town. There are plenty of bars too but I’m not in habit of being a “DRUNK PEDESTRIAN”, not that I promoting drunk driving either. The coffee shops are safe.

The strangest of all is, I usually never have money this time of the month, let alone that it’s January!! Guess what, when you ride taxis, you HAVE to have cash. More than your taxi fare even. The unexpected always happens, like when I realised the other day, on my way to work, that I took the wrong taxis and landed up on the opposite directions of where I was going. Or the following day when it started raining just when I was beginning my journey, and knew that it would take a miracle to have a direct taxi on time and the best action plan was to divert the route to the one going faster before I got soaking wet. And the last thing you want to be is a 31-year-old, dressed to the nines, begging for taxi fare home!!

So, there’s always cash. You know what, somehow I’m enjoying life in its purest ordinary form. my body is recuperating from binge drinking, and my wallet has taken a breather from all those Thursday night outings with the girls. I’m learning, and compelled to find entertainment in ways I even forgot existed.

You know what this is what I realise, I am in a Mini Country “Wo”Man moment. I mean, look at me, and see what I mean.

ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖NomnaM2ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖

I’m dressed like I just jumped out of the eighties. The junk sale bag to match. I’m wearing flip-flops because its enough to walk in heels to work and back, I am not cruel enough to punish my feet further. I’m without makeup, face it, makeup and endless walks in the sun do not mix. The face is greasy, I am yet to find sunscreen that doesn’t grease up my face.

WHAT COULD BE MORE COUNTRY THAN THIS?

AND GUESS WHAT, I’m loving every minute of it! My view is broader, and somehow, the most important factors are even better than before.

So, this is MY mini country”wo”man moment, and guess what, I will ride it all the way to the sunset with a smile and a cheerful heart!!!

The packaging is different, but it still is.

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS, you make lemonade, and sell it at a profit!!!

Love will be forgotten

A year’s gone past today

It’s still as vivid as exactly this day last year

A lot has happened,

I have healed, I haven’t forgotten

I remember the pain with every man that tells me

I love you

I pray I forget of its existence

Every look in the mirror I see it all over again

Imprisoned by a love I felt

Thought would last forever

God knows I try

With all my might to close the door

But how possible is it,

When the windows keep opening

In His time, I will forget

Until then,

Hold my head high

One step forward

It will be tomorrow again soon

And love will be forgotten.

Chronicles of a super tall woman

I like him, he’s cool. I wanna talk to him, pick his mind, talk about life. if only he can come closer, say hi, give me an awkward “strangers” hug. Poor guy eventually catches on and walks over then oh-ooh, I can see the top of his head!!!!

Where are all the tall men out there?

I wanna cuddle up in bed next to him and feel like a tiny, protected, fragile me and disappear in his arms. Instead of trying to bend my legs so they don’t stick out in bed, and curl up behind him so he doesn’t realise my legs can go as far as his waist.

I want to be lifted off my feet and spun around like a 5-year-old. And kissed all the way to the bedroom in his arms.

Instead of walking all the way there with my head hanging low because, poor guy thought he had muscle enough to carry all 171cm of me.

And rather found himself bruised all round balancing with everything in sight before finally, with the last breath remaining in him, throws in the towel and admits defeat.

Unlike most women I know, shoe shopping becomes the worst pain of them all, not because my feet are so big they only fit in the men’s section.

To the contrary, they are a perfect 4, but every pair I fall in love with means that I bow down at every door and everyone talking to you starts suffering from neck strains looking up at you.

Thank Gawd the “turned-up” pants and jeans have become the trend, saving you from being embarrassed about your pants and jeans that never quite touch the ankle (qatha out)… lol.

Hair up-dos have become a no-no, you are already taller than everyone else in the club, men women combined, you don’t wanna make matters worse extending the inches!!!

The store version of a micro mini skirt is enough to cover your waist, or perhaps be creative and make it a boob tube, otherwise stick to the normal ones that serve to cover everyone else’s legs but yours.

 You see the runway called life?

Walk tall, Tallie.

Giraffes get to taste the freshest, ripest fruits without much effort.

Isn’t that awesome?

So can you,

Enjoy the ripest fruits of life.

Be You!

Step-up

Step-up

A mantra I chant to myself every morning, day, evening and night.

Step up to being a good mom, achieve your career goals, buy that house, pay off those debts, go to that girls’ night out, go home to be with family, go to that festival even if you’re alone.

Step up and be the best you can be.

Every time there are two steps up, there is one step down. Yes, it doesn’t just all work out at once. Conflict is part of it, those you love and loath evenly. You lose some, you win some, eventually you conquer the demons, the skies clear up and opportunities arise, amends are made, goals are achieved and new goals come up.

There is a price to pay; with every step up there is a hefty price to pay. You spend time with the kids so they are happy. You still worry about the work you are supposed to complete before Monday, and the 15th outing with the girls that you have turned down.

There is only one you, and you are not able to do it all at once. There are no limits or targets other than the ones you set for yourself. In your time, when you can, you will do it, in the order that you arrange yourself. You know your priorities, and challenges, you deal with your demons, you face the wrath, you have every right to choose and live by your choices. If it is on anyone else’s clock, nothing will be achieved, and you will forever be wondering why it is so.

Stick to your beliefs, values, goals and targets, if you don’t live yours, you will adopt everyone else’s and you have no idea why they are.

It will be challenging, it will be worth it. If it’s yours, nobody else’s.