Noah Review

The Bible Reloaded - Noah Review

As a Calvinised kid growing up years ago I have always wondered how some of the Bible stories I grew up reading would look like if they were made into films. Having read every Bible story from Genesis to Revelation my curiosity was like a hunger difficult to please. So when I was in primary school they showed us the story of the famous Jewish King David as a boy and how he killed Goliath with a sling. How I loved that story and the symbolism behind it; nothing in me questioned the point behind the cinematographic narrative. I believe nobody is looking at that; especially given that even the symbolism gets lost. Nobody looks at Goliath as a country with a nuclear weapons, a capable airforce and highly trained soldiers that gets beaten by a sling called Boycott, Disinvest and Sanction.

Okay, politics aside; I went to watch Noah a few days after it debuted in South Africa to little fanfare. This could be owing to the secular nature of our society. Noah's story is a Biblical tale which does not carry the same weight within the Hindu, Muslim and other native faiths. So, not enough bums on seats could be expected in a country fractured across many lines. So, when I finally went to the Brooklyn Ster Kinekor theatre in Pretoria there was only a handful of us in a theatre built to accommodate hundreds. I thought most of the people in there were actually researchers and church elders wanting to advise their flock from the comfort of the pulpit whether they should go watch or ignore. I was there to watch after reading an article in TIME magazine about the number of versions that went through the eyes of padres, pastors and evangelists to find the right mix.

My conclusion after sitting through the two hours of the film with nondescript 3D glasses glued to my eyes is that the film is really an interesting attempt at reloading a Bible story. I know the story of Noah intimately and after watching Darrel Aronofsky's interpretation I felt proud of him for having took the mantle of a historian. Few so-called amateur filmmakers have such a spine. Few, like Mel Gibson with his The Passion of the Christ have tried and prevailed. It is a path dangerous to tread as there are many landmines laid there by Christian fundamentalist who have no comprehension of anthropology; but the abridged Bible tale.

So, for Aronofsky to screenwrite and direct is a brave act; kudos. However if his intention was really to bend the tale to suit a consumer audience, that audience is not going to be Christians. Noah - the film drifts so far away from the script that at the end of watching it I concluded that it's just another interesting film pretending to be set sourced from the Bible. It probably was sourced from a history book, maybe the biography of Noah, which I would like to put my hands on. Otherwise it's an interesting thumbsuck from Aronofsky.

Kudos should be given to the acting by the lead actor Russel Crowe who plays Noah. It was also refreshing to see the re-emergence of old Anthony Hopskins (Silence of the Lambs) playing the role of Noha's father. Credit should go to the make-up team for making him look like what God on film would look like and the screenwriter for portraying that character in an innocent-passive yet sage-like incarnation. The rest of the actors are brilliant; from a young to an older Shem and his wife, Ham and Japhet. Their roles were in a way consistent with what the Bible says excerpt that the film tries very hard to demonise Ham even before he saw the nudity of his sloshed dad. The film does not try to moralise about what's the point of Noah deciding to get sloshed when that was a conduct unbecoming in the eyes of God.

And maybe the film is an attempt at that Jewish narrative as to why everybody should accept defeat and forget about heavenly glory since Japhet and Ham's offspring was poisoned. All their loins could litter were wild seeds. However, it's quite interesting that this tale is not evidence of anything that is happening today. History has been so rudely bastardised over the years to the extent that nobody really knows if some truths are served in doses to support ethno-political narratives. Aronofaky'a direction of Noah is very political - especially given the state of negotiations at the Israeli-Palestinian debate. Some call it the Jewish-Arab conflict; if that was the case it would have been solved long time ago since both of them would have pleaded to being the descendants of Shem and being entitled to every blessing he got for concealing the shame of his father - as per Bible and Noah the film.

However the real kudos for the aesthetic of this film goes to the the make-up, special effects, SFX, sound effects and CGI teams. Half the film was computer generated, from the depiction of the creation, the sprouting of trees, the bursting of water, the animals entering the ark and everything that me as a young Calvinite couldn't imagine. I have wondered how the story of Noah was going to be told and when I watched the film I understood why it couldn't be told before computers were advanced enough to tell half of it. So, the CGI team deserve the Best Film award. Next is the sound effects which become  ear busters on a Dolby Digital surround sound theatre. The special effects are just out of this world and they are what makes this film great.

I would think Aronofsky is brave and his storytelling is brilliant. But I refuse to acknowledge him as a genius because this is our story as told by him; he reloads a lot of it to the point that some scenes just became alien to me and believe me I don't consider myself passive. I have my understanding of the story of creation and Eden and how it is told in this film defies the many books I have read on it. It's not as controversial as the Big Bang Theory but it will make people think.

We were  handful in a theatre built for hundreds but I really felt this is one of those stories that grow on you. It's not a blockbuster like Spiderman III but the kind of film which's success depends on what the pastors say in church after watching the film and holding their three day spiritual retreat to seek 'spiritual' direction on what to advice the flock on. This will become the talk of the town in a few weeks or months' time and that's when those Christian bums will fill the seats. One believes it will eventually recoup the millions pumped into it by Paramount.

Truthfully, since with a film like Noah I can only be truthful; I am giving this film a good score, for the artistic approach to the settting, the CGI, the wardrobe (even though I saw what looked like a pair of jeans worn by Shem's wife), SFX and the bravery of telling this story. I don't do fat lips; but if I was to give a statuette; here goes for six out of ten. There's always room for improvement Aronofsky my friend.


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oscar pistorius

Cry Me a Reeva - What did Reeva See in Oscar?

To be quite honest with you I have always wanted to post on Oscar Pistorius but shuddering a lil' bit when I look at the four legal brains procured to get him off the hook. I have been afraid that I might post something wrong and end up having Adv Barry Roux putting it to me while comedians make a joke about me and rappers find inspiration in my bluff. But after Friday's postponement I think I can take a week to speculate.

RED CARPET: Is it all there was to Oscar Pistorius and Reeva Steenkamp?

Truth is, I'm one of those who want justice to prevail against all odds in this trial. I truly have no interest in seeing Oscar going to prison or escaping responsibility; because his shrewd lawyer got him off by a technicality. If he's guilty he must go; if not he must walk, the same way it was the case President Jacob Zuma during his rape trial. So, I look at Roux (including Zuma's Kemp J Kemp) as that lawyer I will hire when I am facing 25 years in jail and I look at Nel as that prosecutor I would look forward to having prosecute a case inwhich I am on the good side.

So, it has been quite a good three weeks of a roller-coaster ride inwhich I, like international television would have lost interest if the State summoned all its 107 witnesses to testify. That the state called a few crucial ones and closed its case has renewed my interest in the debacle. Also, because while providing riveting viewing, the trial is a substitute for the International T20 World Cup taking place right now. Anytime Judge Thoko Masipa decides to shut us out of the gruesome evidence we can tune in to cricket and see another gruesome evidence of failure on the part of the Proteas selectors.

So, I have always wanted to write about paralympian Oscar. I love the chap; regardless of what he's accused of. He epitomises truimph of the human spirit. Everytime I go to shopping complexes in the sleepy towns of this country I am confronted by limbless folks at the entrances of grocery stores asking for pennies. I am confronted by blind folks begging for charity. One of them could have been Oscar; but no, Oscar has an Olympic Gold medal and was rumoured to make R20 million a year before the sponsorship plug was pulled. That's why I love the guy; his fighting spirit, his determination to win, his vigor and his passion for finer things in life.

On the same breath I love the Reeva Steenkamp story. I never had the opportunity to know the sassy model in her living years; only after her tragic death. Reeva is a picture puzzle I only know through pieces assembled by friends and family. Remember that there was a debate about whether the Tropica Island show that featured her should be screened or withdrawn. That decision brought us closer to Reeva; her disarming beauty, smile, her drive and passion. In a way we came close to seeing what is it that Oscar saw in her. She was probably his Gold medal, his 'Baba', something he could have that ordinary folks couldn't. It was twice as sweet for Oscar because here was a chap without feet who could scoop the prettiest wannabe model right at the nose of some of us with our two feet. So, it must have felt good to outrun us again.

Reeva was to Oscar what the Olympic Gold medal was to some of us. A medal we couldn't get because we are not even competing on that track. So, given Oscar's rage at losing a Gold medal in the London Olympic and complaining that the other chap's blades gave him an advantage; the potential for losing Reeva must have felt like that to young, rich and armed Oscar.

The chap might have had a fascination for firearms or might not but it's irrelevant today. His fascination is not his but it's white culture. The only thing real is that Reeva not only complemented but also completed the Oscar specimen.

Then we need to wonder what was in Oscar for Reeva. Money perhaps? For God's sake the chap did not even have feet and has been seen on SABC3' Top Billing canoodling with a sexy lass in Seychelles? There was evidence that the paralympian had a taste for finer things. It's natural, he's an athlete; think about all that adrenalin and wonder which one outlet can accommodate all of it? I tell you every cup would overflow and two to three would be needed.

So, as a layman who loved both Oscar and the character of Reeva I think it's inconceivable that a woman would still be dreaming of cracking it as a model at 29. Don't this girls crack it while still young and tender? 29 for someone trying to be  a model is the equivalent of a 39 years old woman trying to crack a first marriage. What I am actually saying here is that those are desperate times. Those are times that the desperate will do anything to crack it.

 So, here is Reeva noticing that Oscar stands on more red carpets than she does. She notices that half of what Oscar's revenue comes from is endorsements which in a way are as a result of the number of corporate and sporting events that he graces. Reeva notices that the media will always obsess with who Oscar is dating; and if she happens to be a pretty woman wanting to be a model that might open modeling doors for her. She thinks of a David-Victoria Beckham. Reeva notices that being closer to Oscar will get her attention and maybe; even at 29 she can still be a model after all, something she missed being at 21.

 That might explain why she stomached all the abuse which came to light in the state case. 90% passion and 10% abuse is the same as 90% abuse and 10% passion. Half of what Oscar allegedly did to her I doubt she would have stomached coming from me, someone who steps on two red carpets per year if I crack an invitation.

 For me, that was the making of that tragic relationship. There was never really a romantic relationship but a relationship of convenience for both of them. Oscar loved how Reeva made him feel while Reeva loved what Oscar's brand had the potential of doing for her own.

Oops, I finally wrote about Oscar; I still love him and don't understand the ANC Women's League's obsession with him. If only the ANCWL sat with every woman or girl in court over a rape, abuse and murder matter, we would have an improved dispensation of justice. The ANCWL would improve from being a burial society to a real advocacy organistion.

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zimbabwe calling

Zimbabwe Calling: Updating my Activism

Sometimes I get quite disturbed by issues outside of my jurisdiction but which continue to violate my peace of mind. Which reminds me of some time ago when I was still a learner and saw in the staff room a poster which encouraged us to stomach things that we can’t change.

 I know I can’t change the situation in Zimbabwe but I refuse to stomach the status quo. Truth is that Zimbabwe is spoken about in the past tense. People discuss its glory as if it was sixty years ago. Truth be told, it’s not long ago when it was termed ‘the bread basket of Africa’. As a literature fundi I was intrigued by tales of the Harare Book Fair which was said to be the biggest in Africa and attracted luminaries such as Ngugi wa Thiong’o and other respected African thinkers and scholars.

 Zimbabwe was everything we wished post’ apartheid South Africa to be. The colonialists such as Ian Smith continued to live and cause noise in parliament. Thousands of English continued to farm the fertile, which to a certain extent was the reason it was the bread basket.

 But as we all know Zimbabwe did experience an economic slump, half brought about by economic sanctions imposed by the West and half by economic mismanagement by the ruling party. The West’s sanctions worked because Zanu-PF did not device a plan over so many years to run own affairs in the absence of the English.

 What I mean by this is that President Robert Mugabe, in his hundreds of international visits did not tag along enough experienced indigenous entrepreneurs to help in diversifying the economy of his country. The import/export/distribution/retail connections and contracts remained with the same colonists.

 Thus, when Zanu-PF implemented its controversial land redistribution plan it had figured out how to take a farm but not where/how to sell the produce to the international market. As a result fresh produce rot in storage, resulting in low sales and a domino effect of retrenchment which led to unemployment, poverty and the economic meltdown that saw millions cross borders to neighbouring countries.

 It can still be argued that the land redistribution programme was a super nationalist project. I went to Zimbabwe last year and spoke to journalists, NGO people and ordinary people and what I found was that it was good programme mismanaged for party political benefits.

 Sources told me that scores and scores of untrained Zanu-PF senior members were the real beneficiaries of the land process. Some were given farms they didn’t even have an intention of staying in. they continued to live in cities while owning vast tracts of land they didn’t farm; or couldn’t since the overheads were not circumvented by government.

 I was told that when hunger crept in and the public raised their concern they were silenced through secret police and Zanu-PF loyalists scattered in rural areas. That’s when the exodus started; no wonder it coincided with the rise of the Movement for Democratic Change. The more the MDC accelerated the more the iron grip intensified. Zanu-PF could see its sell-by date.

 That’s what I was told last year as I travelled to Mashonaland Central and past vast tracts of farmland some rumoured to be owned by Vice President Joyce Mujuru. I went past a mine, an army school, an intelligence centre, rural communities and fertile land which lay fallow.

 I revisited the Zimbabwe of my dreams again last week through a Skype conversation with progressive Zimbabwean journalist Robert Tapfumaneyi. We discussed how things were, how they are and how they can be.

 He was adamant that the political leadership in Africa has had a tendency to create problems for expediency objectives and then argue that they should be left alone to solve Africa’s problems.

 Responding to my observation that the reason why Zimbabwe’s solution remains elusive is because of the tribal make-up of the country whereby the Shona have been at the top of the feeding order for ages. He explained that when one looks at the MDC as it was when founded and even when it went to the elections last year there were skills from both tribes and such faultlines never showed up during electioneering, even on the MDC-N’s side, the faction led by Ndebele Welsh Ncube.

 My experience of Zimbabwe has been very much like that of Kenya whereby the moment you mention a person’s name; depending on the tribal identity of the person spoken to, they are quick to mention the tribe. It reminded me of the time I was in Kenya and I mentioned someone’s name and someone suddenly said, ‘oh, Kikuyu’. When I enquired after arriving back home I was told it’s because the Kikuyu are accused of being thieves. “They stole the whole Kenya, from Jomo Kenyatta to Uhuru Kenyatta”. Now, that’s not Africa for you, that’s paranoia and relic of colonial thought right there.

 Tapfumaneyi argues that not even assumed pragmatists such as Simba Makoni and Jonathan Moyo are not the solution. Makoni left Zanu-PF but some people believes he remains a party person through and through. His DNA is Zanu-PF. Moyo left and later returned to Uncle Bob’s party. Maybe his was a strategy that worked such as that of the young Zanu-PF motormouth Psychology.

 It seems the solution to Zim’s problem lies in opposition parties uniting to confront Zanu-PF like a scourge. There can’t be talk of business as usual while Zimbabwe does not have its own currency but transacts on USDollars and ZARands. Tapfumaneyi sees the meltdown as having started when NGOs where suddenly closed to centralise civil service responsibilities to government. In that context such services could be used to recruit Zanu-PF members and the much feared Green Bombers.

 Mugabe sent young Zimbabweans into a war for diamonds in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He then allowed the situation to degenerate into a situation whereby the security architecture was made up of the army, police, Green Bombers and the unofficial magumaguma at the border who raped and killed those fleeing.

 In this chaos diamonds around Marange were stolen and lined pockets of party leaders. Finances from the Central Bank were looted to benefit the first family and close officials. These were allegations that the government couldn’t refute with facts. Spokesperson Brian Matongo, good at spinning was failing at spin.

 Tapfumaneyi sees the current debacle inside MDC not as an internal problem capable of disorganising the opposition but as a process that will separate the boys from the men.

 According to my source things have not improved since the elections. We all know the economic sanction are still to be lifted by the West that imposed them. Mugabe is old and tiring fast. Mujuru could contest the presidency but she has to win the party ticket.

 During my last visit to Zimbabwe some activists said Zanu-PF’s trump card of discrediting other political opponents by questioning their struggle credentials is getting tired. Tapfumaneyi also concurs that that chimurenga argument is becoming obsolete. “Chimurenga played its part but now we have people with a political understanding to can take this country forward”, I paraphrase. It’s something said by one 30-years old activist last year; “I’m thirty years old this year, this republic is thirty years old, where does Mugabe expect me to have fought the colonists?”

 I will provide another update someday soon. For now there are millions of Zimbabweans outside its borders who cannot go back because as Tapfumaneyi says, the situation does not inspire confidence 

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REVIEW

Luv Ur Hood -Easter 2012

While some people were lounging in familiar spaces (such as 606, Valencia, Civilize etc) getting sloshed, chatting under-age girls and lying to each other about how much they have in their banks and what car they will be driving in Summer the Luv Ur Hood bunch (Khutso 'Katsuko' Malele and Hlompho 'Masta H' Lekhuleni) was out at Kabila's Car Wash doing what they do best - hook up a tight show irrespective of the limitations of bad sound and an incoherent line-up - actually rag-tag. Like they say in other countries, 'even without you (Whitney Houston) the show must go on'.

And go on it did; opening as usual with the anthem 'Batho ba a shota' which gets Mr Doo on his element. This comical emcee was this day flipping the coin with a huge wall clock strapped around his neck. He lapped the stage and delved deep into his Sepulana and Xitsonga delivery that pokes fun at other rappers - alive and dead. The line I love with passion is when he says 'rappers masturbate with Rama'. Hahahaha, you should have heard how he got the whole crowd eating out of his palm.

But Do is a drop in an deep ocean made up of different sets, such as those from Thulamahashe (C-Well, Tazzy Taz, PLZNT etc). Some enthusiasts awaited a performance by another Thulas cat called SK but true to the hustler culture of the ghetto he was nowhere to be seen - gathering cash somewhere in this vast region of Bushbuckridge. I however spotted Spotja, Junia and Gazzolin. Spotja dropped a few lines during the freestyle stage together with another rythmatic emcee whose participation only ended there. Junia was strolling around like a Don let loose in the Carribean and never bothered to sing.

Masta H and KFB also took to the stage. KFB flamed the mike with two songs that come ripped straight from the streets. For a change it was refreshing to hear him go beyond his beat influenced freestyles and rapping something one can tell was scripted, edited and delivered with love for the game and fans. Whoever makes KFB's music truly understands his sound - playalistic and suave. KFB knows how to play on the beat as one can hear him on the Mapulaneng Mixtape's 1,2,3 Mabhebeza; together with Young K-Cee.

Speaking of Young K-Cee, he has matured since the days of his novice primary school lines reminiscent of everything despised about the Dirty South. Even though his delivery is tight he needs to evolve beyond rythming about stuff he loves (money), stuff he is (sickest kid emcee) and stuff he wants to be (Young Moolah). This young emcee must broaden his vocabulary and start using other people's experience to inform his lyrics. Hearing someone singing about mohawks and skinny jeans can't make for an interesting album. Young K-Cee the Kid needs serious mentorship; which he might get from his cousin Masta H.

Masta H was at his element. Actually it should be a conflict of interest for me to write about H since I also manage him. But as a fan his delivery is always on point. My judgment of his maturity goes beyond just the songs he performed, which come from his Mapulaneng Mixtape but also a song he recently recorded with J.O.P, where the hook is an intoxicating classical piece by Sabs (Masaba). It's a wedding song that can hold its own in the august halls of Italy alongsinde Placido Domingo and Jose Carerra.

Bushbuckridge was represented by its dons, the gothic crew that drinks and smokes like nobody's business and have scary rythmes that can get a coward shying away from College View, Maviljan and other town's outskirts. Even in the absence of Android the crew still held it down. These dudes need to have a mixtape and market it hard. The streets are waiting.

Obviously Katsuko was there too, threatening to rap and only doing it impoptu. Surely being an emcee is not the easiest role one can play. Familiar faces such as Sparkle, Dialectic (who dropped a verse or two), Adorn the Poet (who was manning the Luv Ur Hood merchandise stand), Black Pearl (who was expected to perform but didn't), Software (hmmmmm) and many more. Luv Ur Hood Easter rocked and they are planning another one for Youth Day! Ayeye!

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Reach for the Sky


Miss Mpumalanga hopeful Thato Matšie is only twenty-years old and can already see herself walking out of the Ehlanzeni Conference Centre with the crown on April 13. She is competing against 13 other equally beautiful and gifted young women – all hoping to continue to represent Mpumalanga at the Miss South Africa pageant later this year.

“I started modelling in high school, winning both the Miss Valentine, Lehlasedi, Shatale and Mapulaneng school contests. I am currently with Select Modelling Agency in Rosebank and have attended Miss SA workshops. At the workshops it finally dawned on me that if I want to be at the top I need to start at the bottom”, Thato says.

She adds that contrary to her earlier perceptions of modelling, it is not as easy as it is made out to look. Thato says her view was broadened at realising that she needs to be informed about what is happening politically, be intelligent and have a brain to understand the challenges faced by young people in the country. “I want to use my participation in Miss Mpumalanga to bring hope to the people of Bushbuckridge as a whole, rural areas and teenagers who are at a disadvantage, especially those who feel that they don’t have hope. I want them to know they can make it in life. I want to be their role model” says this hip-hop sensation Rick Ross fan.

Thato also confesses her liking for Thandiswa Mazwai and says ‘Mazwai is real, a woman-and-a-half. I love her personality’.

The leggy lass aspire to open beauty spas and libraries throughout communities as her way of reaching out. She says women’s health and beauty should not be exclusive to the elite but should be as affordable as a Pap Smear. “I want to be Miss South Africa, own cars and houses. My two role models are my mother, Lebo and Sibongile Sambo, founder of SRS Aviation. She’s the first black woman to own an aviation company and school in Africa. She’s a strong woman who has done a lot and motivated me. She comes from my hometown too”, Thato says fondly. She is also a Flight Attendant student in Johannesburg.

Last weekend her charity donated 250 school uniforms, shoes and bags to Lehlasedi High School and Boikhutšo Primary School learners.

“I believe that our fashion industry in South Africa must integrate our ethnic designs and fabrics into what are globally big brands like Gucci. We need to promote Africa and be more innovative instead of just being consumers” she says about our fashion industry. Her love for women’s beauty is one of the reasons why she wants to study Somantology later in her twenties.

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Kapture the Moment!

Very few South African producers would bet on Fruity Loops being their sound software of choice. They rather vouch for fancy brands such as Q-Base and MPC 300. However when one listens at the finished product the creativity fails the technology.

That’s until you meet Kapture, real name Ronald Malele (24). Born and raised in Bushbuckridge, Malele started his schooling at Saile and moved on to Ditau High School where he matriculated in 2007.
He says that he discovered his love for music, especially the innovation and creative side of things while he was studying PC Engineering in Joburg. While the world of technology is still what pays his bills he has ventured into serious beatmaking as his mixtape, which is still in the pipeline titled From the Underground bears testimony.
Driven largely by sampling underground skits and dodgy (unpopular) interludes his fascination with underground hip hop comes to the fore. “I grew up listening to house and hip hop but I loved hip hop more because of the messages it has. My favourite rappers were and still are Jedi Mind Tricks, Canibus, Gangstarr, Ben Shaper, Proverb, Optical Illusion etc.” Kapture says.
His evolution has resulted in him hooking up with Mpumalanga’s number one indigenous rapper Masta H (Mapulaneng Mixtape Volume One) on his follow-up mixtape. Masta H, real name Hlompho Lekhuleni swears by Kapture’s beats and says he is looking forward to working closely with him on his June release.
“I have worked with different producers such as Hydrogen, Rudy, Khulekani, Juniour, Tapsmash and many others but I find Kapture’s beats to be at another level and am looking forward to rapping my Sepulana rhymes on them”, he says.
Fruity Loops, the software that Kapture uses so well in real underground and deep songs such as The Graveyard, BBR Finest and The Angelic is also a favourite of award-winning 22-years old American producer Lex Luger. Luger has produced for artists such as Rick Ross, Snoop Dogg, Wiz Khalifa and many others.
Kapture is a very talented young man whose command of sampling reminds one of a younger and less-arrogant Kanye West, is on point. It will be smart for some of Mpumalanga’s hip hop artists to familiarise themselves with his sound, especially those on a conscious tip and wanting beats to carry their message across. “The Graveyard is the name of my production which I chose because the graveyard is the last place where we all rest, so this means my sound is the beginning of the end.”, Kapture says in conclusion

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Onse Artist in District Six

Outlaw artist Sandra McGregor understood the vast vistas of storytelling outside of the then much-hyped oral literature and the glam offered by DRUM magazine and its genius writers such as Can Themba and Blake Modisane. Afrikans have over the years succeeded in having their knowledge transferred from one generation to the next through campfire tales – that was before someone exposed the pen and paper to them. Folk tales have survived various assaults since nobody had the power to burn – literally every Black person with a story embedded in their mind. And when they started using various mediums such as photography (Alf Khumalo), sculpting, painting etc the apartheid wheels came off.

Thus, when Sandra McGregor saw District Six – a mixed residential area that had defied any attempt by the apartheid government to divide by race – and not rule the majority population of South Africa she saw a canvas hungry for her oil and brush. Over many years she recorded life in this ‘controversial’ part of the Cape, including the day the bulldozers came with instructions to bring to an end a social experiment gone gory.

It was 1962 when she settled there as an artist – almost an outsider in a community that was MADE IN PRETORIA. Dolores Fleischer, who authored Onse Artist in District Six made it her mission to trace the route that Sandra took, her muses, her rags to riches story, her inspiration, her uncelebrated talent and the probable reasons she felt at home at District Six.

When I have to review work as disarming as Onse Artist in District Six I am confronted with the reality that the best story of South Afrika’s artistic excellence, including its place in the world has not yet been told. The Van Goghs, Picassos and friends don’t have nothing on our artists. What with the robbery that took place during apartheid years – some through curators who took in their own possession classic works by South Afrikan exiled artists such as Gerald Sekoto and the raping of works by sculptors Noria Mabasa and Jackson Hlungwani to the point where they adorn majestic buildings outside of this country – bought at a pittance.

Paraphrasing what Steve Biko said about a people with two versions of history, Fleischer not only makes this poignant point to stick out throughout her biography of McGregor but she also uses it as a political tool to interrogate the past. “The individual spirit and its artistic expression can never be destroyed”, a blurb on the back cover makes that point very clear.

The destruction of District Six aimed at discouraging, through action human disregarding of the social engineering that was taking place in their mist, mirrors that of Sophiatown. The architects of poverty’s attempt to render history a lie by destroying the inspiration that ended up on McGregor’s canvass is not lost to Fleischer’s narrative which accompanies the paintings and the profile of biography artist.

Like The Artist in the Garden – the Quest for Moses Tladi by Angela Read Lloyd, the sting in the tail of these works is the fact that they are bios written to celebrate triumph of the human spirit – against odds larger than physical and legislative hurdles.

This is a beautiful book that will be useful more the day South Afrika answers back to critics of the modernity (contemporary claim) of its artistic landscape.

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The Artist in Our Garden - A Review


Apartheid was terrible because not only did it deny the majority of people a chance at self-determination but it also robbed its practitioners of an opportunity to discover a beauty outside of themselves. A beauty that was not pink or peach but Black – quite probably brown. Thus, the architects and their apologists were left existing in an aquarium environment of gross ignorance where everything that shone was gold.

This was the sad indictive conclusion I reached after reading – quite critically Angela Read Lloyd’s biography of Moses Tladi, the first South African Black artist working in an international style - titled The Artist in the Garden, the Quest for Moses Tladi. A beautiful picture-driven bio of an artist who never occupied any space in the mind of the Boer art fundis because their state decided he shall not be acknowledged as existing in a country of his birth. He is called the artist in the garden because, as apartheid would have liked it – the best idea of a Black person for anyone visiting South Africa was supposed to be that of a garden worker or miner who at the end of the day was so tired that he would not see the need to explore any career outside of the confines of subjugation.

Tladi, in that institutionalised oppressive system managed to become a painter, a brilliant one at that who captured the aesthetic of his institutional captivity with the view of a bird in a cage. When you look inside a cage all you see is a bird, but you’ll never know what it sees when it looks outside. One poet once said that ‘a bird, even in a golden cage still years for freedom’. True, the golden cage only charms the captor but the bird can see the freedom that exists beyond such glittering confines. Tladi escaped the cage in ways that made the captor angry and feel more the need to suppress his creative spirit.

The story of Tladi is the story of musician Enoch Sontonga, the story of author Merriam Tlali, the late sage Es’kia Mphahlele and all the Black soldiers who took part in the Second World War only to be relegated to footnotes when the story was finally told by Field Marshall Jan Smuts and his Boer generals.

It is a counter-story to Pablo Picasso’s imagined, media-hyped and celebrated genius, Breyten Breytenbach’s literary eccentricism and JM Coetzee’s purported eye for detail. The story of a star that continued to survive against all odds – even when the sun rose. The man who refused to be shackled and packaged in a box.

It’s for that reason that Lloyd’s endeavour to expose this rare gem deserves proper appraisal in a world that is known for giving posthumous awards instead of lifetime achievements and excellence prizes. While the consumption of artworks, especially the visual genre is still an elite hobby in our country it is through good narratives such as this that consciousness will someday replace literary apathy.

The Artist in the Garden – the Quest for Moses Tladi is available is all good book stores. I loved it and I promise you my sentiments shall be yours when you finally flip page 293







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An Apple that fell Far From the Tree

They used to say an apple never fell far from the tree. Recently this idiom has come under serious challenge. First it was Marc Brown, the son of former defender and SAFA Lowveld President Mr Allen Brown choosing basketball to soccer and now it’s the same son, now going by the name of DJ Prodigy occupying the number two spot for Polokwane on the online music chart reverbnation.

This simply means that for a few weeks now he has been voted the number two house deejay in Limpopo by music lovers who get to listen to hundreds of songs on the file sharing site. He debuts at number 19 in Mpumalanga, regardless of having already released three EPs and in line to release another one end of September.

DJ Prodigy, a media studies student says he was inspired by the growth of the house music industry in the country to follow his passion after basketball. That passion has already seen him producing tens of songs which he has already played to rave reviews at the University of Limpopo and its surrounding clubs.

“My music has to be heard and played in Mpumalanga as I’m gonna need all the support I can get from my province”, said Prodigy, who also triples as a graphic designer and producer.

He says in Mpumalanga he will be competing on reverbnation with brilliant producers such as Extreme, Native and Da Capo. “I just did a remix of Papago o rata Mmago for Moko who plays a huge role in production and upliftment of house music. He also masters all my songs” adds Prodigy.

Prodigy’s music, which we had an opportunity to sample at a listening session is intoxicating and well-fused. It is deep house with saucy riffs and a thumping bassline, often over tribal sounds. “My favourite local DJ is Cula de Song while I draw my international inspiration from Lass Berenhof. For local house to work out we need to have a national top 100 list for house. In that way we can produce house music that we can export to other countries instead of always playing small”, he says with finality.

Prodigy plans to release his Chillour House Sessions Volume 1 Club Compilation soon.

His music can be currently heard on www.reverbnation.com/marc-da-prodigy brown

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Luv Ur Hood - Mkhuhlu


The fourth of five annual instalments of Mpumalanga's flagship hip hop movement Luv Ur Hood kicked off a storm on October 1. The session, still themed Marope ra Maja saw hordes of emcees from this sprawling township coming out to trade verses and asset their position in the province's hip hop landscape.

Hosted at Snoepie's Bar by Community Radio Bushbuckridge's hip hop deejay Matt, tens of fans lounged their Saturday afternoon under the barrage of unadulterated verses.

New voices and rappers of note who surprised many through their talent includaed dreadlocked Eghemu Village native Ronza Wakhona, Blazin' Blaze, Two Spin, Peta, Royal Air, Trick Boyz and the Skwatta Gang crew.

As it has become custom the movement's founders Mr Hlompho 'Masta H' Lekhuleni and Khutso 'Katsuko' Malele were also there not only to increase patronage but to explain how the movement works. Masta H, who already has a record titled Marulaneng Mix tape Volume 1 blew the crowd to smithereens with his opening freestyle verse during the open mike. Katkop was compeering the event and dropping impromptu lines which robbed him of an opportunity to perform his anthem Ke Tswa Bush.

However, Crazy Doggz's Shogun C-well was at his best and so was Mr Doo (Yo Hip-Hop) who displayed his multilingualism by dropping rhymes in Xitsonga, Sepulana and SiSwati.

The organisers say that this year's closing session will go back to its spiritual home, Ga-Kabila car Wash on December, where they expect all emcees sourced from Acornhoek, Thulamahashe and Mkhuhlu to converge for a grand finale.

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Spring meets Summer



I reckon you have been wondering why has Kasiekulture drawn to a yield in recent times. Don't stress comrades we are still here. The technicalities of the world since the Arab Spring has meant more clogging of the internet sytem. This here thing works like a heart and the more there is tension the more the veins get clocked and it slows down. But now I'm talking about the capitalist system. There seems to be some chap somewhere who is interested in making sure that anything coming out of fertile grounds for a revolution gets nipped at the bud.

They say what made the Arab Spring successful as opposed to the hundreds of African Springs over many years was the literacy rate in those countries. Immediately they started to protest they kept the world updated through social media such as Twitter and YouTube. They kept those images of brutality flowing and that is one of the reasons why the world stood behind them and eventually helped them topple their dictators. Well, while the same can't be said about South Afrika, however the jamming signals that roam our communities are a threat to our freedom of expression.

However that is not really the reason I have not been posting but it's one of them. I am back with a bang and you will receive your regular updates of our artistic and literary landscape here on Kasiekulture. I have been held down by adjudication of South Africa's beautiful literature and I have even forfeited to mention that I have completed a film titled Cast the First Stone which has already been flighted on Mzansi Magic.

Okay, stay posted. I am back with a bang!!!

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In Any Colour

There are few things that paint can achieve. It can hide cracks on a wall but not the severity of the cracks. It can turn ugly structures into beautiful ones which’s value does not really improve but which can be delusion enough to warrant a higher currency while they shouldn’t. Paint can create colour that later becomes a multi-million rand identity. The Kaizer Chiefs’ black and gold colours are worth hundreds of millions on the market. Reportedly, Vodafone had to pay tens of millions to Cell C to have exclusive rights to use RED as the colour of their trademark. Cell C had no option but to shift to BLACK - which is perceived to be a negative colour.

South Africans have always had a unifying pastime – which later on becomes a national identity. Having a braai was (and still is) our pastime. We are a braaing nation. So, it was quite inspiring to see that on Mandela Day our age-old pastime was suddenly replaced by painting. The legacy of a human rights fighter as dignified as Mandela is suddenly reduced to 67-minutes of changing the colour of structures. South African Airways repainted the whole fleet to celebrate Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela 93^rd birthday.

A weekend newspaper columnist alluded to this ‘cheapening’ of Mandela’s 67- years of being a freedom fighter. I concur that this whole hype of turning Mandela Day into Graffiti Day must be subjected to investigation.

We all know what Mandela Day should be but maybe we need to debate what it should not be. I watched in my neighbourhood and on television as scores of people flocked to schools, crèches, orphanages, clinics etc with paint and brushes over the weekend as their celebration of Mandela Day. I found the gesture quite noble. Those structures obviously would have used another coat or two, which is what the hordes of charitable South Africans provided.

However I was surprised to see community leaders in some areas converging to schools with questionable reputations with hundreds of litres of paint to gloss their reputations. They say ‘no matter how much lipstick you put on a frog it will remain as ugly as it is’. There are schools in Bushbuckridge whose reputation is teachers who sleep with learners and later get support from their unions when they are called to account. There are civic leaders and School Governing Body members in these communities who don’t want to hound these teachers because they don’t want to rock their fragile friendships.

And for me seeing the same hypocrites pretending to care by painting the same schools helped by the same teachers got me wondering if the 67-minutes couldn’t have been better spent discussing with these paedophiles asking why are they abusing their authority over teenage girls? What’s the point of covering cracks of a decaying moral fibre with oil paint when the decay will continue unabated?

I have seen politicians donating clothes, blankets, food and houses to the needy on Mandela Day. And what I have always observed is that none of them use their own money to extend this charity. They use government resources to buy credit for a service they should be delivering everyday – not only on July 18. People must use their own cash to show their gratitude to Mandela. Otherwise, all our activities will soon be as tired as the paint left on the walls, which might not stand the test of Spring.

It is futile to think that paint will wash the conscience of our nation and the sins committed behind classroom doors. All it will do is to hide our shame, conceal the cracks and once Mandela Day has lost its novelty – expose us for the hypocrites we really are.

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F-ck Rehab - The time-bomb finally explodes

How do you deter a time-bomb from ticking to explosion? There are actually two things to do. One; you find the detonator and figure out how the wires were fixed together, then you defuse it.Two; you don't stop it but you run away so that it explodes in your absence. Amy Winehouse was such a time-bomb. She has been ticking since she came into the music scene as a disturbed, vulnerable yet talented young girl who wanted to have fun. Fun for Amy meant activities which some of us who have only gone to the point of the herb call psychedelic stuff.

In writing their eulogies of the genius who joined Club 27 on Saturday (July 23) friends and journalists testified about her drug binges, her hatred -not fear of rehab and her lost soul attitude to life. She apparently failed to understand that Janis Joplin was full of life when she overdosed and died at the peak of her career. To her, and some of us who loved the Woodstock bunch Joplin was the closest thing to David playing his harp for King Saul. Yes, Joplin was brilliant, full of life, wanting to change to world but got high and fell to the ground. She died.

Amy just failed to draw a parallel between the Joplin years and hers. The 1960s were characterised by hippies, gypsies, love and peace movement and a psychedelic lifestyle that sufficed because almost the whole world was at war. So, the rebels could bonk, drink wine and smoke as many joints, valium, heroin, cocaine and bhudda all they wanted while politicians were focused on hating one another. The law enforcers were spooks trying to sniff KGB spies in the West. Anyone could have been anything.

But Amy lives now; the age of HIV, drug enforcement that sees specialised mercenaries deployed to bring down cartels and a technologically savvy world that one can have fun without leaving their room. Then her obsession with Jimi Hendrix. We, who were born earlier loved Jimmy with all our hears and felt bad when he - like fellow Wooodstocker overdosed and died. But you can bet your last dime that Jimmy didn't die to follow Janis. In the same breath you can bet that Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain died to follow the two geniuses.

And now we have Amy who followed the three. Amy cried in her music and the world chose to ululate. She asked for help but we chose to relegate her fears of rehab as a gimmick. Damn it sold copies of records and made her a megastar. A megastar that died leaving all those millions. But Amy wanted to die and people should understand and accept that. She probably had a dangerous God-complex that misinformed her that she can live and die at her own whim.

Well, she lived and died at her own whim. And that is how we should all remember the genius that was Amy Winehouse. 'Fly away lil bird see I aint' shedding no tears'. Hope in her own weeded brain she joins Club 27 - the Orchestra Beyond and continues to make beautiful music.

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VIDEO

the shatale biography

weekends are now exclusively reserved for goodbyes & lullabies

no longer do we watch soccer we watch caskets going down

we count blessings every step we take from the womb to the tomb

HIV/AIDS on the rampage communities perish like flies

sisters is shedding sweet tears finally paroled from brothels

go to confession mami make the church your haven

friendships replaced by conspiracies judas is reincarnated

hugs conceal real motives & the backstabber's Okapi

welcome to my township - mi casa su casa

why did we nip love @ the bud when they showed us the dollar

how can we all scream aluta when some are rested in Benzes

marijuana's now our messiah guarantees redemption

it's a cold-cold world father i'm down on my knees

rescue me from temptation i see the bait of lucifer

bullets still lick asses of brothers who forgot how to act

we misled now believe black sheep should die in the dark

install doors on caves & disappear from your glory

my township is contradictions prays to god but praises satan

we wonder why he's your son but lacks your light

we gave our faith to mighty dollars that never bought us life

brett kebble caught hollows left us wondering why

tens of millions couldn't bail him from the angel of death

last night i humbled myself & dialed mary the virgin

to save me from my fears of dying before turning 40

give me a reason to live while everyone is dying

take me to heaven if it's there i'm converted sans faith

i'm blind can't close my eyes i pray with them open

for everybody i love to have eternal life

everybody that left to be forgiven they sins

everybody on they deathbeds to get well before christmas

for shatale to be bold enough to bury its dead

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REVIEW

Hip hop has always derived its strength and glamour from emcees proudly representing where they come from. The territorial mentality is wholly about the emcee telling the rest what’s so good about their ‘hood. Sometimes the fact that there’s too much crime can be a plus since street credentials are the only honour rappers can carry to the next ‘hood.

So, the second out-of-Shatale instalment of Mpumalanga’s only hip hop movement Luv Ur Hood saw a lot of Thulamahashe’s emcees coming out to drop their verses and share stories about their sprawling township with other rappers and patrons. The show on in early July, themed Mangozi Ya Tala ka Spice, exposed the raw talent that remains hidden in the periphery provinces of this country. Gauteng has nothing on some of the cats that prowled the makeshift stage.

On decks was the province’s only hip-hop DJ, SK, who also dropped a verse with his Krazy Doggz crew which includes many emcees amongst them C-well Shogun, Tazzy Tazz etc. While every DJ is going the house music direction - SK is the Funkmaster. They had the crowd which is familiar with their songs, which are contained in their mixtape, repeating every hook as they ripped the stage apart. The mood was only poisoned by one emcee who saw his moment of glory as an opportunity to push his political party's hustle.

Thulamahashe also boasts arguably the youngest female emcee who, the way she was delivering her raps it appeared that if she’s not genius she has an intelligent ghost-writer. Methinks her hypeman who also happens to be her sister is the writer behind the juicy rhymes.

Lydenburg and Burgersfort were represented respectively by Oscar (Pedi Swagg) and KG who together dropped powerful lines over a beat produced by AB Crazy of Man of the Moment fame. “I like the fact that there are shows this side of town. Quite honestly where we coming from you don’t get rappers meeting like this to share in the music and culture” said Oscar in an interview. We ended up having an hour-long chat about hip hop both local and global.

The regulars were there as well. Mr Doo sampled from his upcoming mixtape. He comically rapped what has become his signature tune, Leya Thoma go e Kwa while Masta H also dropped a song from his upcoming mixtape titled Lepulana Volume I.

Katsuko mounted the stage and delivered his stellar song Re Tswa Bush which has become an anthem with a music video on YouTube. Dialectic was also there delivering decapitating punchlines, first with a Krazy Dogg member then on his own flowing over a Nas and Damian Marley beat.

While Shatale remains the spiritual home of the movement organisers Katsuko and Masta H say they have serious plans to put it on a road show and give it that Made in Mpumalanga identity.

“The next show will be at Mkhuhlu, followed by Bushbuckridge. We are looking at how we can take it to places such as Kanyamazane, Ngodini, Matsulu and others”, Katsuko told the patrons who came to feed off the raps on offer.

Luv Ur Hood, Mangozi ya Tala ka Spice is also used to merchandise and the organisers say it’s now on Facebook, where other people can join to follow the growth.

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VIDEO

Re T$wa Bush

Shatale zone 2, right next 2 Nazareth church is where my head goes to rest,

Still blessed to be living amongst loving neighbors,

I do remember those early years playing le bo Eric,

Sammy always finding us mischievous shit to do, re sadja di Nombela.

Maiba having da fear in their eyes whenever we approached,

Shit! We never got coached on how to be happy,

Be in da wrong, n Mama whipped ur ass gladly,

But we had to grow that is the story, sadly

So hell yeah I will tell u when they ask,

Of course Ket$wa Bush.

Mangozi yatala ka Spice, might get u ill, but damn dat shit is nice.

Happy to see we passed on the tradition,

Course my Nephew still comes through with dat raw ish,

N we start feasting

Ripe ones, u don’t want a lot in ur system,

Thuto bears witness to dat,

N I bet Shatale could go in the Book of Guinness,

As a record holder for the most Mango trees in one kasi,

But that’s just some trivial shit,

My hood is truly legit,

Although we not recognized, I will still say

Of course ket$wa bush.

Marope ra maja, maphopho ra kganya

N if u don’t got u could always ask ur neighbor,

Ladies dat sell those treasures, are the true saviors,

Trying to feed their fams, while they feeding the nation

U could find them at every taxi rank, Selling those health products, produced ku Zoeknog.

True dat, they might be cooked or uncooked, wrapped or unwrapped.

But u recognize u home, when u get home n u find ur mom eating dat shit.

N u recognize the real, n if a udji Marope

I don’t think ut$wa Bush.

Never made it to Lower, but dat hotel was the shit

Probably broke a whole lot of families around Acornhoek,

But when 1 thing goes, another just gets us Hooked.

I cry with the wives whose husbands, booked a room ga- mokanatla

A fetse a teye ka nama, but dats how the story goes,

Dats how life rolls, now we havin strip shows, right here in dwaarslop.

Never been, but 1 day I might just get in, so I may say n prove,

Whenever they retelling, whenever they be asking,

I’ll tell them simply yes, of course ket$wa Bush

(Hook)

Nna ket$wa Bush! Weni ot$wa kae?

Kere nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana weni ot$wa kae?

Nna ket$wa Bush! Weni ot$wa kae?

Kere nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana weni ot$wa kae?

Marope ra maja! Weni ot$wa kae?

Mangozi atala! Weni ot$wa kae?

Nna ket$wa Bush! Weni ot$wa kae?

Nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana Weni ot$wa kae?

Nna ket$wa Bush! Weni ot$wa kae?

Kere nna ket$wa Bush

Two towns connecting, taxi drivers reflecting

On their lives spent between Acornhoek n Bushbuckridge

Carrying eager moms ready to spend dat grant,

Seems like we famous for impregnating,

Rural twist, nobody is masturbating

So we let da babies live n give a faint smile, when we see a child bearing a child,

N she still has to push a wheelbarrow, just to get some water,

Yes there’s shortages everywhere, Ask them in Bevelsoek or Garapanga,

People in Bushbuckridge don’t complain, and if they ask again,

I will tell them of Course ket$wa bush, no doubt

Nna ba mpitsa leshoboro, was never my cup of coffee,

But we went for some raw shit called mankgorong,

Kgokgo yago sa keni potong, before I new that bottle @ 606

But then I grew up, n found out bout Niggaz like Mingaz

N how they be terrorizing that spar,

By far, I never heard of niggaz living this way, but that’s their way,

N this is my way of relatin to the place I was raised in,

No need to be hating, no need for escaping the dusty roads, that nurtured ur soul,

True dat, no doubt, ket$wa Bush

Now Luv Ur Hood is in the picture,

No doubt we are permanent fixtures,

God giving prescriptions,

Filled with Ghetto Gospel scriptures,

Goodenough be giving us dat energy, to make this shit a blast,

We not testing da waters, we drinking till we overflow,

Mr Do, go ahead n overblow,

Masta H, this is da rhyme stage,

And KFB, hold it down, till we cure Shatale of all these frowns.

And as we propel till Thulumahashe

And excel and hit CollegeView,

The people will say, its true dat they flew.

N yes

(Hook)

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana ot$wa kae?

Kere nna ket$wa Bush! Kere weni ot$wa kae?

Nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana ot$wa kae?

Kere nna ket$wa Bush! Mfana weni ot$wa kae?

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

Ret$wa Bush

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