The Way Forward

I've recently noticed an upsurge in general pessimism about South Africa.

I find that when people vent about South Africa and their prospects in the country, it comes across as an almost therapeutic release, an outburst of stress and disappointment focused on their country of residence. They are fed up with it - fed up the difficulties of engaging with cultures they do not understand (most likely for lack of trying), tired of the economic responsibilities that a developing economy burdens it upper class with, angered by the high level of crime that seems to engulf their everyday life.

Like most countries, South Africa isn't an easy place to live. Its beauty in terms of natural wonders is mostly counteracted by the suffering of the impoverished majority, the intensity of the AIDS epidemic, and an inability to control Crime. These factors contribute in severe ways to a growing pessimism.

In my opinion, this pessimism is highly dangerous as it has the potential to transform into something infinitely more menacing. I believe that there is a tendency in these pessimistic views towards racism. I've begun to notice it more and more - twelve years since Apartheid, those derogatory labels don't seem to have gone away. I've encountered too many ridiculous social darwinistic stereotypes, and ominously naive generalisations, and i'm not happy about it.

While there is justification for a pessimistic view about one's prospects in South Africa, the blaming of these problems on racial differences has no place in that discourse. Racist language, stereotypes and generalisations are ridiculous and stupid.

The destruction of narrow racist perceptions is the only way forward.

Walk

I remember telling people that i used to walk from my house to Sandton City, a thirty five minute walk. They seemed to respond always with snobbish amazement.

"Why would you do walk?" was the question that most commonly came out.
Why walk? Drive. Driving is easier, they say.
If you drive, you get there in half the time.
Walking takes too long.

I feel bad not walking. I wish there were subways in jhb that took me to within two kms of university, so that i could walk the rest of the way.

I drive alot. I go to many places. In traffic, I never listen to the Radio. It is too current, too entrenched in the madness. Wheel spin, Battery water. I wanna walk to work.

Studying is for the weak

Spitting from the sky,
drops darken concrete pavement.
A black rain shadow.

Clubbing Together

This is a picture of young people partying at a club in Beit Jallah, a town in the West Bank.

Read the full article by clicking on this link.

The point that I'm making is this:

I understand the tensions in the middle east. I comprehend how the different ideologies clash and conflict with each other, and I know which ideology best represents my interests.

However, regardless of ideology and identity, the truth is that I am unable to distance myself from the human element of the crisis. Just as Israelis have been under attack from Palestinian Militants, so too are the residents of the west bank and gaza under constant threat from Internal militancy as well as Israeli Aggression. I can't ignore my conscience - the human cost is too high, and ultimately, destroys hope of there ever being a sustainable palestinian state. I have an unashamedly idealistic approach to the situation. As impossible as it may seem, I hope that both parties will one day find a way to compromise, and that both sets of people will be liberated from this conflict.

When i saw this picture, it was on the website of the leftish Israeli Newspaper, Ha'aretz. I found it to be quite poignant - through the suffering, the shootings, the violence, the hardship, young Palestinians resist being pigeonholed by their suffering in the only possible way...by having a good time; by dancing and drinking away their troubles. This is real partying. In South Africa, we go out to clubs to party after the stress of exams, but the truth is that we don't understand stress. The people in this picture do.

Another thing that this picture reminded me of was of the bombing that took place in that club on the Boardwalk in Tel Aviv a few years back, and it would be remiss of me to mention that event in light of this article. In that case, young Israelis were killed while partying in a club. In many ways, a club is a sacred place. Blind devotion to partying overwhelms one's problems, just as praying would do. In effect, bombing a club is like bombing a house of prayer. An attack on everything that we, as youth, stand for.

Ultimately, my point is that a club acts as a universal sanctuary. From South Africa to Tel Aviv to the West Bank, young people around the world are united in their desire to party away their troubles. This is the common ground, this is something shared, this is something universal. As young people in the world today, we need to be capable of seeing past ideological divisions and hierarchies in order to unite the world. As citizens of the world, we must have common needs, a common respect for human life, and a common desire to celebrate our lives.

Let's open a new club - We'll call it "Planet Earth".

I'm smelling that sweet Tequila right now.

The Action Channel

I've been watching too much CNN lately, and am now depressed. The world is on the verge of destruction.

The American Government is "Broken".
Round 30405 of the Israel vs Palestinians vs more palestinians fight has begun.
Thousands of people are dying daily in Iraq, Darfur, Palestine and Ahfghanistan.
North Korea have a nuclear weapon, and the way things are looking Iran will have one soon too.
George Bush is ruining his country and, by extension, the world because of his insane crusade style foreign policy and non-stop emphasis of high government spending.
South Africa lost in the cricket.
Manchester United lost to Copenhagen.
A rampant bull charged a british yellow bibbed traffic officer on some highway in england.

Goddamn CNN.

Where are the snogging lesbians when you need them?

Experiments with Destruction

Red paper cups filled with green acid stand on a metal fold-out table. The contents look like delicious punch but when you drink it, your tongue burns a crisp black, and falls out of your mouth - specks of grey ash on a white tiled floor.

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Sterilized metal needles lie in a tightly sealed steel jar. A man in a black sleeveless shirt, curving black lines mingling along his left arm, picks up a needle with his right hand. With precision and power, he pushes it through the bottom lobe of your ear. A scarlet spurt of blood shoots out, turning the piercer's face into a bloody rorschach.