Counting the unhatched chickens

Her eyes closed a few times in the middle of her sentence I would imagine to give the moment effect.

She believes in God.

She knows God will move her passed her worries. Her face is gentle and honest. Not for one second do I doubt the sincerity of her words. She looks through me at one point, as she tells me how life has kicked her around. Again she says God will help her.

“Not while you are sitting there” I said. Her big brown eyes widen. She seems to have been placing all her eggs in her basket of faith. The very thought she might have to actually be present and a participant in her life change seems to have really knocked her for a six.

I think she got my point.

Off balance

He stands there, shifting between his feet, constantly caught off guard by his own weight. His legs no longer trust his body or perhaps it is his body that should no longer trust his legs. My first thought is that he has come from a wedding, only later do I wonder if perhaps it was an occasion that drives one to drink but not in celebration.

An umbrella in his right hand which he does not let go of even when he stumbles towards the ocean, playing with kelp like a curious child. His middle finger rises up into the air. A silently loud gesture sent out into the ocean. His movements are angry; perhaps he has a strong dislike for the ocean. Or maybe he is a man that does not feel warmth for the world at this moment. Either way he is odd. We all watch the odd man in his freshly ironed shirt and suit pants, act out on the beach. 

Even at a distance he stinks of sadness, for this I feel sorry.

Closed fists and angry legs

A hand flew into his stomach and my body reacted out of shock. He then drowned in an ocean of many hands coming at him in fast waves. Closed fists and angry legs.

“A man is being fucked up just down the road” spilled out of my mouth. The manager at the garage was visibly surprised, perhaps at my choice of words or even worse surprised at my surprise.

He said the guy must of done something wrong. He also said he would call the police; I feel more to appease me than to be of any help to the guy, he had already found guilty of wrong doing.

I sit on two opposing sides of this fence. When I open the paper to see a mob has taken the law into their own hands, for example a child was hurt. I am sympathetic towards the mob.

That mans expression is burnt into my head. On the other side of the fence it is easy to read about such things in a paper and agree or disagree with what is being done.
But seeing that behavior does shift ones views in a big way. Last time I wrote of something so far out of my world was when I found a baby on the side of the highway in a trolley. As I said then I will say now-
I come from a world in which such things do not make sense to me. I feel it is not right of me to hold a strong opinion of a world I am not and have never been apart of. All I am saying is that it upset and disturbed me and I hope we can come to a point where we can rely on and trust the systems in our country to give us the justice we so clearly crave instead of feeling the need to take the law into our own hands.

Thank you asshole

It is hard to find inspiration and to keep that fire burning.

Today I was inspired.

I was inspired by those who do what they love and love what they do.

More often than not my question which follows the standard question of the nine to five job is to ask people if they love what they do?

I am so interested in this answer. It is not very surprising that most people do not love what they do. I once told someone, I believed that we all need to find what we love and do that. She disagreed and said that we can do anything provided we are making time for that which we love.

Some random hour of the saturday morning my drunken palm was read by a runt of some litter.

He told me I would die young. He told me to enjoy my last nine years. This stuck to my mind as one finds predictions of their death tend to do.

Firstly that guy is an asshole. Who tells people that?

Secondly, let us not have a cry over spilled whiskey (although this is sinful behavior I must add). I am not dead yet.

I am doing what I love at this moment and have been pushed to perhaps write that little bit faster so the point is therefore not whether it is true or not. It is more about being made aware of the hour glass. The sand that does not stop falling even when one might miss their boat.

Perhaps an asshole crossed my path for that reason. Maybe I was walking a running race and here I am again picking up the pace.

Thank you asshole.

You rape we chop

President Zuma was invited to join this protest. He could not make it as he was playing golf.                               No-one is surprised.

I had just attended the protest at parliament against rape.

I was wearing black. It was black Friday.

The crowd was smaller than I expected but a good starting point, I decided. There was not a large enough male representation yet I was happy to see some males there; also a starting point.

We have seen these protests before. But this one sets itself apart, in that this will no longer be something we do every year or two but rather something that is done on a more consistent basis. This is why I see it as a starting point as opposed to the middle or end point.

WE DON’T DIE THE DAY WE ARE PUT IN OUR COFFINS, WE DIE THE DAY WE STOP CARING – MARTIN LUTHER KING

A very powerful quote used by one of the speakers. I think it speaks for how the majority are feeling when it comes to support from those in power.

Enough is enough is also constantly shouted out by the speakers and the crowd. People are no longer going to accept this South Africa that women are being forced to live in. The death penalty is also mentioned a few times, it is definitely the feeling of the majority that the death penalty needs to be reinstated.

Each speaker represents different sectors of women. There are those that represent the disabled, rural women, sex workers, refugees, survivors as well as one male speaker.

Basically to break down of what was said

– Zuma’s state of the nation speech did not speak of any action that would be taken against rapists or anyone who acts in any way violently towards women and children.

-Cases are being reported but they are not moving through the legal system.

From the rural women’s perspective-

-Many cases go unreported.

-Special task teams needs to be set up to address these issues.

From the sex workers perspective –

-Sex workers are raped by policeman who say they are deserving of it.

-It does not go unnoticed that those in power live lavish lives and do not consider the people.

From the perspective of a survivor of rape-

-This lady was raped by a policeman who told her he was the head of a police station and that no-one would listen to her or believe her should she tell anyone. Her statement was taken, but her case has still not been taken in front of a court.

-She makes a point of saying that our president does not speak of gender violence.

From the perspective of those with disabilities-

-Women with disabilities are often raped as they are not protected.

Points made by other speakers-

-Every four minutes a woman is raped and these are only the reported cases never mind the silent cases.

-Organizations that help women are closing down. How can such organizations, which play such a vital role in communities not be supported?

-Silence is no longer an option; everyone will now speak out and ensure that changes we want to see are actioned. This starts at home with educating boys and communities as well as exposing any wrong doing. One day it is sexual harassment the next it is rape and after that murder.

The only male voice-

“As a son, as an uncle, we men are here for you. It hurts us deeply to see what is going on. I always say to my male friends that when they hear of a rape I want them to picture it being their mothers or sisters. It fucking hurts”

This gentleman told me after the protest that he is already planning a men’s march. Of course this will involve both men and women.

Every Friday has been declared black Friday. I believe if I wear black weekly, and can explain the importance of this silent protest to two people every week, who will join and can also educate others about what we are doing, we can come to a point where South Africa no longer knows a colorful Friday, it is only when we unite in such a way that something will be done.

Nobody gives a hoot

Again there is silence.

42 minutes ago we hooted against rape. It was 60 seconds. 1 minute.

One can not believe how worked up people can get in one minute.
We had a women screaming at us and throwing eggs. We had an old man threatening us.

This is an important campaign. Rape stats have raised over the passed year. Every four minutes a women is raped.

I sit rather stone faced, let down by the world. Some of my friends seem less surprised and are faster to recover. Perhaps I am an optimist to a fault. Perhaps I think small things can make a large impact.

Perhaps the best outcome we could of hoped for was exactly as today panned out, although there was a bad reaction, there was a reaction.

Today showed us how closed minded and intolerant people are. Not one person asked about what we were doing. Their only concern is that their day was disturbed (for one minute)

My friend said it best –
I’m shocked. They will go back to their daily routine feeling a little annoyed and I am left feeling empty. As a country we can not even unite in times of tragedy and sadness.

Crossing the line – Hating me briefly

This has been written as a song but it probably needs to be reworked with music. I love it.

It was birthed at a festival, the emotion of it all has passed me by but the friend behind it all remains. He knows.

You had to deal with me
Drunk and upset
You had to deal with me
Throwing black paint all over the walls
You had to deal with the water down my face

I made you walk for me
I made you walk for booze
I made you battle the darkness
I made your sky turn purple
And your face red

You hated me briefly
You hardly hated me at all
You have lived those moments
You get them all to well

I made you walk for me
I made you walk for booze
I made you battle the darkness
I made your sky turn purple
And your face red

I woke feeling bad
When I saw you
All you asked is if I was okay
We blow things up in our minds
A little sometimes
We blow things up in our minds
A lot sometimes

Creative laxative

I told a friend, who gets as much of a kick from taking the piss as I do, that I I cannot write as I am all blocked up. He told me to take a laxative.
Funny one smartass.

All I know is that I have a million thoughts a minute. Perhaps the curse of the creative block is the inability to write as fast as I think.

I remember going out at about age 6 half dressed, funny the things we remember. I must of been dressing and at some point gotten bored by this activity and shifted my attention.
When someone noticed; they could very well have just told me they thought it looked like rain out, by my calm reaction.

Now the thought alone of walking around half naked makes me blush a bit and I’m really not so conservative. Well maybe a touch.

I just wander where along the way we started caring so much. My favorite once witnessed a little girl bouncing around a room practicing her ballet, his reaction-

Now if I just broke out in dance people would think I was mad.

Yes, they would for some reason adults walking around half naked or breaking out in dance sporadically, is socially unacceptable to the point of being frowned upon.

No one will be stepping on your blue suede shoes, don’t bother shining them up, they are going to be hidden at the back of your cupboard until people learn to relax and regain their sense of humor.

As he who dreams about a cabin in the woods always says-

Why so serious?

Staying on the edge

I don’t know what the fuck I am doing. Truth be told I don’t think anyone does. We held our breaths as the world didn’t end.

Well I lie I was never at the point of turning blue but I guarantee there were many who were. Perhaps it is those who have been living the last few weeks like they are no longer attached to a lead of some sort. Isn’t it sad it took threat of the end to actually bring some people to life.
So many this year have told me they have lived their lives on auto pilot, what does that mean.

Are we such a passive animal we can’t even claim rights to our own lives.

In conclusion so what if I don’t know what I am doing at least I am moving forward instead of standing still.

Staring at the ground

I was walking today paying more attention to the world then usual. A man made eye contact with me and held it for sometime. This surprised me more than it should have.

I have spent some time thinking about it, I realize the worlds we all live in now a days are becoming further and further apart. We are in fact disconnecting from one another as well as raising a future generation that doesn’t understand the connections we once possessed.

I am not talking about amongst those we know, I am concerned for the connection we fail to possess with those we do not know.

It is not a deep connection I refer to which we are actively hunting for. Its more of a, we are connected by the fact we walk the same earth. Drink of the same water and both bleed when cut. I fear that it is this very lack of connection that allows the hungry to grow hungrier, the poor, poorer. The depressed more depressed.

As when we feel connected to those we don’t know as opposed to only those we know this is when we feel with great certainty the world is shifting for the better.