Proudly Perplexed- dissection of a South African’s disarray

This afternoon I was filling out an application form and then I reached a requirement that asked me to specify my race. -Umm Human Being? (That’s not what I really wrote)

What is with that? I understand that as South African’s we’re still haunted by the memory of Apartheid. We live in a state that tries unremittingly to ensure that everyone is treated “racially” impartial. Take a maths text book for example: “Sipho, Jessica, Muhammed, Carlos and Chang Lu were sharing a cake , how many slices …” You get the picture 😐 in which school would students of that many “races” be motivated to do maths? Anyway, what is race? As long as aliens haven’t descended there remains a single race on planet earth. Humans. Oh right, that’s were all things chaos begins.

I’m not going to preach about the errors of Adam and Eve, BUT I’m still trying to fathom this race issue. Whenever I travel abroad I am recognised as a South African. Back home I’m seen as an indian South African. Now if I’d said that I was indian in any other country it usually gives the impression that I come from the land of sari’s, rice and several people stacked on the back of a motor cycle. This is the part where I gratefully accept the title of ‘african’ and no I am not taming giraffes in my backyard or walking to school (through the Karoo Desert) with a lion by side.

I think its fair to say that we as South Africans are confused, about our identity with a inexorable struggle in history we’re still on the process of finding our feet, kind of like a teenage girl, and with our politics I’d say that this adolescent has a lot of hormones. Germany would be the rebellious brother, America the immortal all knowing father and Asia the cultivating mother. Europe would simply be the perfect can-do-no-wrong, hormoneless sister. Everyone with the exception of us seem to have a purpose but as the insanity of teenagers can never be explained, South Africa too seems free of reason.
Nevertheless what does it mean to be South African?
Is it coming from a background with more cultures than the ingredients in Bunny Chow? Having politicians as a form of entertainment or perhaps it’s having a president with more offspring than justice laws? Wait, I’ve got it, maybe its having to enter your ‘race’ on a document in a country that’s utterly against racism.

In our flummoxed state I think the last time I felt patriotic was watching Oscar Pistorius at the Paralympics , but even that standing was a chimera- like the Etoll system, which hopefully remains a facade for much longer. 

 

Quixotic Novelist 

I’m just in it for the reduced chocolate sales

Fair warning what you are about to read is no bed of roses , this is not the musings of a lonely girl, no, it is the contemplation of a cynical, realist who hates artificial floral arrangements.

While today is an ordinary Thursday [for me], the rest of the world obsesses over the colour red, fake roses, stale, over priced poor quality chocolates and cards that sing-off key. Yes, once again it is time for the annual take over of hearts and cheesy advertising also this is the part where I usually throw up but I don’t think my screen is insured for vomit damage so I will abstain.

For some the only flowers they will receive are the rose emoticon on bbm or a broadcast that circulated from the likes of Sheldon Cooper. For those who are less fortunate will be the recipients of cliche pick up lines, sickly romantic gestures and the occasional bouquet of blossoms which they dramatically accept-this includes a picture on instagram, several tweets, a facebook notification and a bbm status- all is rosy until a mere 10 minutes later when they realise they’re deathly allergic, but hey, the world knows they got flowers. Thumbs up!

To all the frantic romantics don’t let me dampen your l’esprit d’amour. For those who are, like me, thoroughly repulsed by the words “Will you be my Valentine” fear not, as of tomorrow all chocolates bearing red wrapping will be on sale!

I must admit I didn’t expect any false gifts this year but I do cringe when I say that I did NOT anticipate my valentine to be an english format test

Happy Thursday!

X♡X♡
Quixotic Novelist♥

Sick in a world without remedy

[While you’re reading this, spare a thought for anyone who has been a victim of abuse of any kind, anyone who has had the power of self will taken from them]

We live in a sick earth. Pollution is growing more detrimental each day, crime becomes more brutal. This is no longer the entertainment of old wives tales, this is on our doorstep and without warning at anytime its forced entry will be in our homes. We live in a sick world and today I am sick.

I am sick of doing nothing. Sick of hearing these horrendous stories, rape, mugging, abuse, murder and corruption just to name a few. These are no longer stories. This is reality. Fairy tales are no longer volumes of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, a world of peace without pain. That is the fairy tale.

Every 4 minutes someone , somewhere in South Africa is being raped. 702 and Highveld launched a beep campaign to make this fact a little louder. We’ve heard it and its shaken the core of our hearts. The greatest tragedy is not that these innocent people have had their innocence snatched or even that our justice system is justifying these atrocities, the tragedy is that our emotions are the only thing that this news will affect. What are we doing? What can we do? Are we going to be the generation that allows for this to continue? Are we going to allow our kids to grow up exposed to this?  Speaking about it is a start, but every beginning must have an end, how will we end this encroachment?

The question is not whether we’re willing. Yes we are. The question is how? Awareness can be raised but how are we solving the problem? Do we ignore it and allow it to be swept under the mat enabling it to grow and then find a scapegoat for the monster we played a part in creating? Do we wait until it happens to someone of our concern and then demand change?
A lot of questions and by the state of our affairs those statements will remain with question marks unless drastic measures are implemented.

We are the youth, we are the citizens of tomorrow. We are the composers of our futures. Take control and make YOUR voice heard!

Quixotic Novelist

 

Please check out this link, a real eye opener and also may save YOUR life http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=454180051297578&set

Food for thought

Came across this discussion, I’m just curious to know how many females share this view and if any men agree with it or if this mentality has ever occurred to them ? Your feedback is appreciated.

Quixotic Novelist

Decree of Blasphemy

One evening I went to watch a football match by one of the local teams, *hold your surprise to the end, I am capable of spectating*. One player kept on slamming vehemently into another. I lost count of the amount of togs that flew into shins, or how many times the ball whacked someone in the face. This must be a regular technique because the defenders constantly blocked the path of the strikers causing an off-road collision.

Finally the game ended and I was a few minutes closer to the vicinity that didn’t include groomed grass and sweaty soccer players when a commotion on the pitch caught my attention. One homicidal, explosive participant stood ,yelling uncontrollably at his team mate, words of affliction and humiliation. In terms of football I’m benighted and yet I’m absolutely certain that this isn’t the regular proceedings, that or this guy had verbal diarrhoea. The receiver responded in the most dignified way possible- he turned around and walked away.

This got me thinking. Every guy there must have been injured and they’re all probably in desperate need of thai massage – and possibly a deflation in testosterone- but give or take a few days and their driven brains would have long forgotten and moved on. Then I thought of the guy who was affronted. That wrangle of slander would have been vibrating endlessly within the walls of his skull, a part of him must wonder if there were truth in what was said and if in fact, the fault did lay within him. [Please note that I am a girl and I have zero understanding of men and the way they respond to such circumstances, this is based solely on my own interpretation of events. Your understanding is appreciated]

As much as physical actions may crush with a tremendous force, words have an imperishable impact. The swelling will devaluate, the bruises will depart, the pain will bid but the scars of insults and criticism will forever remain.

Words are powerful weapons, never underestimate their value and never use them as objects of destruction.

Quixotic Novelist ❤