published 08 June 2009

What's in a name?!

Behind ITUMELENG lies a lot.

So, my phone rings and in the chirpiest voice I answer, "Tumi, Hellu."

"Good day, is this Miss...*hesitation*...Ithu.....Ithulemeng Sedumi?"

At that very moment two things popped into my head and I didn't know if I should say them out loud:-
1. No 'mofo' this is Itumeleng Sedumedi
2. Are you South African?

With a strong sense of hesitation I open my mouth "How long have you been staying in South Africa?"

"Excuse me?", the gentleman asks.

"How long have you been staying in South Africa?", I repeated.

"All my life", he says and he rightfully sounds confused.

"What's your name?", I asked.

"Johan", my 'dear friend' responded.

"You are South African but can not pronounce and spell one of the most common setswana names - and you want to sell something to me?!".

*Beep, Beep, Beep* - he was gone.

It wasn't the first time someone was pronouncing my name like they have something stuck between their throat and tongue.

Here's a note to all my english speaking friends - it's offensive and it ain't right.

It's offensive because I get your name right and if I don't get it right the first time I'll try until I get it right. Do bear in mind that as much as my name is not in your first language - yours is not in my first language either - so maybe we need to apply the tit-for-tat rule.

Johann is no different from any white, indian and coloured South African who don't give a 'rat's arse' about black South African names, what they mean and how they are actually pronounced.

Anchors, Newsreaders, journalists, presenters and most english speaking radio and TV personalities seem to be under the impression that it's okay to mispronounce African names - like I said - It is not right, it's not fine and it's not acceptable.

I'm of the view that anyone who has the priviledge of imparting info, news, entertaimement and education on a medium that is as influential as radio or TV is obliged to know how to pronounce every name they have to read-out or speak about - PERIOD.

I was appauled recently, while watching the news on an indipendant 24 hour news channel, I heard an anchor linking to one of their journalists who was on stand-by - "Now we cross to e-news journalist Tumaole Moshlaodi standing outside......".
I mean 'COME-ON', the guys name is actually Tumaole Mohlaoli pronounced (Mohlaodi) and he is your coleague for heaven's sake.

Here is what is more upsetting about our brothers and sisters who do not pronounce African names right, it is not a matter of can not, it's a simple 'I don't care'.

French and Italian names are no less difficult than our own names. I mean cuppacino, pizza, magnifique, merci, champagne, menage trois and so many more names that come from countries beyond our borders are pronounced here with so much ease and confidence.

I am certain if I introduced myself to any english speaking individual as "Itumeleng, it's Italian for rose" they would so-know how to pronounce my name.

Half the time, the same people who "struggle" to pronouce names like Mbeki spend half their time trying to figure out how to correctly pronouce a name like Agliotti - while relevant figures like good old Thibos remain boMubeki.

Why on earth should anyone - black or white be reading any news bulletin on any media plarform if they don't know how to pronounce some of the most mentioned names on a daily basis. I mean I'd understand if you made the mistake of pronouncing Tlali Tlali - Tlali Tlali if we didn't know who that is - but anyone who is in the business of news should damn-well know that the NPA's spokesperson's name is pronounced Tladi Tladi. You should know by now that Mahlangu is Mahlangu and stop it with the Mashlangu nonsense. It's the reason why you have been entrusted with that duty (we hope), not because you look the part and not to patronise anyone.

It seems to me that while the South African English speaking community is less interested in pronouncing our names right - people who come from other countries are making more than an effort to get it right.
Take for example two of my friends from the US, Henry and Adam. I'm talking here about two white males who have only spent over 5 years in this country.
Adam for one knows HHP's songs - lyric for lyric - no pause. (HHP would be that famous motswana rapper/hip-hop artist whose work is primarily in setswana.)
Henry on the other hand speaks isizulu - properly. Not this "khunjani" nonsense.
I mean the one time we were in the hood he says to me "I don't get it, What does 'Siyabangena' mean because from where I'm sitting 'we are entering them' does not make any sense at all'. I can't even begin to explain just how impressed I was.

And then you find South Africans who've been singing the same tune since 'God knows when'. "Mina i...i...igama lami". Puleez - get over it already.

I was born in a setswana household, I went to a setswana school and I dream in setswana but my respect for other languages and names has never been determined by my home language.
So just in case you think it takes no effort for me to pronounce any english word or name - think again.

An even problem though - has got to be our black/african brothers and sisters who do not want to pronounce African names right more than our English speaking 'siblings'. I mean who said it's cool to sound so lost. What on earth is "Phelisa" when you know damn well that your mama named you Palesa and you know how to pronounce it but refuse to.
What is that? And what's the deal with everyone teaching kids how to speak English and English only when we should be taking it upon ourselves to teach our own to respect our tongues.
Every single person from my generation who has an African name is doing everything they can to give their names a cooler/american/english twist. boKatlego ke bo "Katz" boOfentse ke bo "Fancy", boSipho ke bo "Psyfo" and everyone whose name begins with a Mo is now a "Mo", I mean forget that your parents thought of a name as profound as Montshiwa or Modise or Motshedise - MO sounds cooler - does it? What's so nice about saying your own name wrong?

Poor next generation - I feel so sorry for them - who is going to teach them to uphold their roots? To take pride in these beautiful names? To know what thinking goes behind each and every African words.

Recently in New York, legendary author Ngugi wa Thiongo delivered a speech at the launch of his book 'Wizard of the Crow'. He had a lot to say about literature and African languages but the basis of this wordsmith's speech was - Africans not taking pride in their own languages. For the better part of his address - he looked and sounded angry.
He argued that black parents do any and everything to ensure that their children speak English at home, at school, at church and they don't care if they know a word of their mother-tongues.
He was right - and it's upsetting.
I mean how many people do you know in Jo'burg who have young ones who speak English 24/7 with a twang - nogal and can't utter a word of setswana or isizulu and happen to be black South Africans?

And to all those who think you are excused for pronouncing Vhenda, Xitsonga and Ndebele names incorrectly - think again - it ain't right. Just like seSotho le isiZulu those language groups are as South African as you and I.
And our brothers and sisters from other parts of the continent deserve as much respect as they give us and our names.
They are human, african and have blood flowing through their veins just like you and I.
Before you break your neck just to pronounce an american popstar's name right, why not start here at home and get the Ndivhuhos and Okwonkwos right.

It's upsetting when white people do it because they don't care about doing the right thing.
But it's annoying when black people do it just to fit in.
I mean look at it this way - where have you ever heard a white person at all trying to sound black/ghetto or african just to fit in? Where have you seen and Indian naming their children boSipho or Refilwe? We are the only people who do all we can to sound, look and act like others.

For heaven's sake, take a step back, take a good look at your surroundings and ask yourself if fitting-in is worth giving-up your identity?
Ask yourself - what's in your name?

Nna ke Itumeleng Sedumedi, gofejane ga Patjane le Manthana. Ke ngwana wa kwa bo Lerato, Kagiso le Nina, Ke kgabo-mokgatlha, Ke mmanago Mpho, Tsholanang, Kabo, Omphile le Oratile. Ke matlho masweu - ke nko sephara - ke mmala legala - ke montle e bile le bo eseng mang ba ipala mabalankwe, fa o ka mpona o ka nna mabele wa gasagana.

To cut a long story short - My name is Itumeleng Sedumedi, some call me TUMI not THUMI, not DUMI.
Behind that name lies reason, pride, meaning, identity and me.
So Please think about how you say my name - don't get it twisted. It's ITUMELENG.

To Bantu with Love

The most meaningful relationship happened when I least wanted it and least expected it.

Dear Bantu

You make me happy. - No, scratch that.

Dear Bantu

You are the definition of a trully fun, positive-spirited, meaningful half. I mean what more - No, scratch that.

Dear Bantu

Very seldom - No, scratch that.

Dear Bantu

When I first spoke to you and I don't mean back in the day, I mean the 2nd time around, you were possibly a good conversation - nothing more. The thought of chatting to you online or seeing you again did excite me but I did everything I can to dismiss it, afterall, I was not looking to be in a relationship at all.

I was done, single, pregnant, scared but certainly not going to hook-up with a man. To be honest with you I'd given up on finding someone to share my life with.

When I saw you again (for the first time - this time around), I was....nervous, not in a bad way but certainly a stupid way(smile). 'Easy does it', I said to myself, 'You know there's no place for a man in this life of yours'.

I'd been on a cleaning spree. Had been cleaning-up my life, my emotions, throwing out the anger I had towards innocent people, owning up to my fuck-ups, getting to know me better, learning to be happy by myself and more than anything learning to accept that I'm going to be a mother.

but...

I knew I wanted to see you again.

Seeing you again was...I don't know if SWEET explains anything but it felt good. To cut a long story short, the more I saw you the better I felt about a lot of things.

At last someone was making sense without even trying to.

At last I was really liking someone without any....(pause to think) pre-conceived notions about what should be going on between us.

At last I was in the presence of an equal, an equal in every sense of the word.

At last here was someone I didn't wish I could change a single thing about.

At last here was I in a man's presence and I was MYSELF, no compromise, no pretending and absolutely no need to act like I'm supergirl - if you know what I mean. (laugh)

At last here was a handsome, intelligent, sexy piece-of-ass who made me laugh.

At last here is a weirdo who pinched me everytime I said something funny or stupid.

At last here was an atmosphere that had fun, great conversation, attraction and respect - all at once.

At last here was a guy with soft big hair and a scent I wanna take with me everytime.

All that said, in my mind - all this was so going to be short-lived.

'I have a bun in the oven', I thought.

It's been months since the day I thought like that.

You are amazing and every moment spent with you has been beyond a breath of fresh air.

I'm happy, I laugh out loud, I'm ME. No, I'm ME AT MY BEST.

There's never been a need to compare you to anyone, there's never been a need to mention you in the same breath as any other man, and there's absolutely no need to load what we have with preassure, expectations, promises, lies, copy-pastes-and deletes.

In the very same breath I feel as respected as I respect you.

I realise that without you in my life - my trip into Motherhood wouldn't be as positive and exciting as it is.

Thank you. You make me happy. You are the definition of a trully fun, positive-spirited, meaningful half. What I am in your presence is what makes me value you so much, I am a happy me. U rock.

I know you are a good listener so do me a favour and listen to:

Estelle and John Legend's - YOU ARE

Daniel Bedingfield's - If you are not.....

If only we'd stop trying to be happy we'd have a pretty good time. - Edith Wharton.

I think Edith Wharton was onto something.

Here is what I know for sure - I'll never forget you.

With Love

From Sunshine.

Props, Well-done, Thank you.

Celebrating young South Africans who are just worth a mention.
(at least in MY opinion.)

Brickz - Kwaaito artist, composer.

Yes 'Mabrigado' the Kwaaito star. You are a writer. You take your craft so serious you took the face of kwaaito and turned it around. Before we even knew who you are, your work touched us through Mapaputsi, that guy was on top only because of your composing skills. When we met you - One-liner kwaito songs were most definitely HISTORY. Now these boys know not to feed us twak coz we know better. I'm not saying anyone who did kwaaito before Brickz was bad; I'm just saying he took it to a whole new level.

Keabetswe (Mmoki) Modimoeng - Wordsmith.

Let me break him down first. He is a poet. He has featured on HHP's 'YBA 2 NW', on Mr Mo' Molemi's - Amantsi and Douglas Mosadi's 'Modumo', and DJ Le Monka's 'Motswako Tape'. A collection of his poems titled 'Maduo' was publishes more than a year ago. I know you probably thinking so what? Here is what I digg about this 22 year old. At a time in SA where any and every young black person sounds, acts and believes in everything American, this man spits and writes in Setswana. Not styling setswana, Not slanging setswana and absolutely not ghetto-lingo setswana. I'm talking here SETSWANA in its purest form. He don't patela but duelas, and please don't make the mistake of thinking he don't speak much English. He speaks the kind of english that would have 'boChief' le 'maBEE' rather baffled. Serious english, he just prefers setswana more. Brother man - you are beyond an example of appreciation of one's own roots. BIG-UP.

Dada Masilo - Dancer, choreographer.

Honestly comes across as fussy. Not the easiest person to click with, very few journalists will give her the time of day but damn-it this girl is something else on the dance floor. A legend in the making. From the very first time I saw her MOVE I was moved. She understands the human body really well, she is damn creative, she has presence and her choreography is nothing short of talent. Her piece Romeo & Juliet will leave you.... shaken if not transformed. She was named Standard Bank Young Artist of the Year Award winner: DANCE at the age of 23. Now that's what I call - FOCUS.

Reagan Thaw(702) - reporter.

You are an outstanding journalists. Your work speaks for you. I don't know if your stories are your ideas or orders from the top but damn they always look and sound like yours. You make me sit-up and want more. I have respect for y'all. I know a lot of it has to do with your newsrooms and how they wont settle for less but you still stand-out. Props.

Kopano Matlwa - Author.

This young woman penned her story and got it published too. and that ladies and gentlemen she did while in her school uniform, yep, she was still in high school when her best-seller titled COCONUT was published. It goes without saying - you are determined and that is BIG.

Thula Sindi - Fashion Designer.

There's hype and there's hard work, you are the latter and your work is outstanding. Not because of detail, colour, fabric choice or who it's on. Your clothes are well finished, beautifully designed and very simple but striking.

Siyabonga Ngwekazi - TV Presenter and entrepreneur.

You make television exciting. You are the bomb and on top of your game. You are creative, clearly in charge and anyone who knows television would know that no-one scripts whatever comes out of your mouth but you. And on Amakip-kip, don't think I'd be caught dead in one of your t-shirts but damn you and your partner effortlessly went for the kill. People love your brand. As simple as it is. Way to go.

Bongani Fassie - Musician, Producer.

Out of the box. That's the simplest ways to describe your music. I mean what you did with Vusi Ximba's song was good, but what you did with Da Les's FIRE is out of this world. Ke ya tlala. I've seen a lot of young people try to 'ride' more on who their parents are than their abilities. You, just rock. Fassie or not.

Beverly Maphangwa - Radio Producer.

Robert Marawa's the Discovery Sports Centre on Metro FM is an exceptional show. Often enough in this industry 'the voice' or 'the face' gets more credit than 'the brain'. There's never a glitch, silent moment or boredom on that show. I'm not a sports fanatic but I'm a journo. So from one Journo to another. Keep up the good work.

Mncedisi Shabangu - Theatre Practitioner.

When you were simply 'an actor' there was an intensity about your performances and your presence is just undeniable. The way you speak makes one want to listen-up. When you became a writer and director you proved beyond reasonable doubt that you are a theatre genius. Your production 'Ten Bush' blew me the fuck away. It was brilliant. The lighting was out of this world, the story-line was incredible, the cast - captivating, the props! I mean you took six benches and made a world out of them. That play was Priceless. I don't think I'll forget it anytime soon.

Mpumi Dlhamini - Musician.

People always mention this young man in the same breaths and sentences they mention Moses Molelekwa and Moses Khumalo. These two not only played instruments but they were both part of a genre that rides on reality, talent and excellence. A genre not so many people dare attempt to penetrate, Jazz. Just like these two great late musicians, Mpumi is young and plays 2 instruments (Piano and Saxophone) like his life depends on or like he's was born to do just that. At 23 he's performed with musicians he's always looked up to and released an album that is doing beyond well. A nominee in all the prime music awards in the country. You blow me away - pun intended.

Happy Dlhame - Visual artist.

Innovative (creative and original), patient, intelligent, young and simply a breath of fresh-air. You have to see his work for yourself and hear him speak about his ideas to understand just where I'm coming from.

Teko Modise - Soccer player.

In one simple sentence - You play real good soccer. Wakgothatsa. In my eyes, you have no competition mo kasi.

A mess, A lesson.

It might be hard to separate the destructive and the constructive but, SUCH IS LIFE.

Every single day a lesson finds it's way into our lives. Whether we are ready to acknowledge it, accept it, challenge it, take it or simply use it to the best of our abilities is another story.

I go back to some of the most painful lessons I have learned in my very short life and feel greatful. Lessons of growing-up, learning to live with others (socially and professionally), lessons of change and in the same breath lessons of re-adjusting to new arrangements, set-ups and truths, lessons of loss, lessons of love and day-to-day lessons of survival.

At the worst of moments we are way too hard on ourselves. We forget that just like the next person, we are human and mistakes only complete life.

We stumble, we fall, we betray, we break promises, we loose, we envy, we hate, we love even when we are not loved in return, we make rules only to break them, we hurt, we please, we cry, we laugh, we regret, we want things that are way out of reach, we misuse opportunities, we loathe the very things that make us unique, we forget, we win, we loose, we sink, we fly, we contemplate, we take for granted, we under and overrate, we live and then we die.

I would like to acknowledge the biggest lesson life has brought to my doorstep. I AM HUMAN.
Whether I get it right or wrong can only be determined by me and what I want. So, I just want to live life. If I take wrong turns along the way - I will have to make the best of my newly found routes and lifeways. I love myself enough to know that conforming to someone else's idea of what life should be about is so not for me.

Let me get back to LIFE.

Self Love...
...you either have it or you don't. PERIOD.

You can look at the person in the mirror and say 'I love you' as many time as you can.
You can have the fattest bank account or know how to make a million in a day.
You can have a million people call you BOSS and place yourself on a pedestal.
You can be famous and adored by many.
You can have the perfect partner or the perfect relationship.
You can be the most intelligent person in your circles.
You can turn heads every minute of every day.

But...

When you are not willing to accept and acknowledge your background, accept your skincolour and who you are. You will not have the ultimate luxury or basic need (really depends on how you look at it) I just call it self-love and from what I know and understand, genuine happiness is crazy about it.

Success is different things to different people.
It is not the hardest thing to achieve if you do not let the world determine how you should live your life. Do what pleases the person you have to spend every moment of you life with. YOU.
I think the stupidest thing one can do is go out of their way to impress another individual. All efforts go to waste when they are not impressed or miss the whole point.

As I listened to my sister struggling to find a word to describe a friend of hers who is rather shortsighted (for the lack of a better word), I realised what an important thing self-love is, actually it is the most important thing.
The friend in question needs it, could use it, has to have some of it and until she finds it I feel sorry for her.
Let us just call her 'Tracy' for now.
'Tracy' is the kind of girl that thinks buying yourself a bunch of roses is a good way of keeping a man on his toes, please do help me out if you understand. She is the kind of girl who doesn't mind to be second best, literally.
It's not that I think buying yourself roses is a sin. It's when you buy yourself roses just to get to someone else - that bothers me.
I have over the years learned from a lot of case studies that no woman can make a man's focus change.
You can't make a man spend more time with you.
You can't make a man love you.
You can't make a man see things the way you see them.
You can't make a man commit, or better yet, You can't make a man change his way.
Especially if he does not want to.
Every self loving woman should know that by now.

Not so long ago, I was sitting with friends. There were four of us and only one man among us. He asked a question. A question you've most probably heard enough times.

What do women really want?

I answered the same way I've been responding to that question for the past 4 years. All a woman want is to be showered with lots of attention. Of course I was talking about women way out of Khanyi Mbau's league. I though I was right, until Violet said or should I say asked.

Why don't you shower yourself with all the attention you want?

That made me stop and think. It brought me back to the two magic words - SELF LOVE.
It made me think! If women had enough of it (self love), we would spend a lot of time happy. If we really loved who we are, men would not be heart-breakers, ass-holes, or what-ever we call them when they are not on the same page with our sorry selves.
Just imagine what a beautiful place this world would be if there were no 'side-dishes' (those would be our sister who so guiltlessly sleep with 'taken' men).
Imagine if there were no gold-diggers and no one depended on men to survive or show-off.
Just imagine how absolutely beautiful things would be if each woman loved herself enough, just enough to allow her to love the next woman.
Why do we always have to hate on each other without even giving one another a chance. Imagine if, everytime a sister walked into a room full of women looking stunning she gets the compliments she deserves and no-one hates. Imagine if we just had enough SELF LOVE.
Maybe I'm too ambitious but at least then 'Tracy' wouldn't have to buy herself a bunch of roses.

Before I start sounding like a feminist, how about this.
Imagine if we loved ourselves so much we didn't see the need to walk, talk, live, act like others. Yes, I'm talking about black people and our associating of wealth and success to everything white. Why can't we just be ourselves. Why can't we just stop loading fake accents, twangs, hair and loads of make-up.
Why do black women (and men) in the spotlight, those who've supposedly reached their financial mark and measure of success all look like they just popped out of a fashion magazine or a clothing store window display? Why?
Does it all boil down to the two favourite words of the moment. SELF LOVE?
Why do we always sorround ourselves with ideologies and myths that just take us further and further away from what and who we really are?
If we all loved ourselves enough, not even haters or frenemies would exist.

Haters:- are the people in your life that just don’t know how to complement you without finding a fault to mention in that very sentence. They are those people who constantly put others around them down just so they can feel on top. Sadly none of these methods ever work. They always remain sour, bitter, competetive, unhappy, alone or better yet, ENVIOUS.

Frenemies:- A frenemy is your enermy posed as a friend. She'll give you a hard time about everything you do. She doesn't even know it but she is using you to make herself feel better about herself. She'll make you feel like kak until she feels good. You can't shake her off, or you see no reason to but you need to.

I'm not fighting anyone. You do what you have to, all I'm saying is, we could learn to love ourselves, Our true selves, a lot better.
It would save us from doing a million and one things that are just too unnecessary.
In closing, I'd like to pay tribute in this piece to all individuals who don't conform to anyones idea of what life should be.
People who stand for what they believe in.
People who do everything for themselves and not the lights, camera and action.
People who put themselves and loved ones first and leave the rest to follow.
To women who are comfortable in their own skins. Whether you are blinging, a hippie or walking barefoot.
To people who have so much self-respect they refuse to be second best or substitutes.
I'd like to pay tribute to every individual who has a thing, a thing called respect for SELF LOVE.

'Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got.' - Janis Joplin.

'Nobody can hurt me without my permission.' - Mahatma Ghandi.

SOWETO

Let me tell you about my hood....

...and how it has made me who I am.

It has a million and one nicks. The ones that come to mind include M'sawawa, Kasi, Sotra, M'sauden.

South African HIP-HOP artist Linda Mkhize known to his fans as 'PRO-Kid', coins it in one of his ever popular tracks 'SOWETO'.

Anyone who's spent half their life inside of it either loves it or hates it.

Author Mokone Molete speaks of it exactly as I know it in his book, POSTCARDS FROM SOWETO.

A lot of successful people who have moved on and out really treat it like a relationship gone wrong. They see all its faults only after they've left it.

If you know it well enough, you should know that it has absolutely any and everything, there's nothing you can not find inside of it. A true defenition of the phrase 'Melting Pot'.

If you haven't experience it, you probably still think 'gangsters walk its streets looking for their next victim'. And, you are WRONG.

It is SOWETO, my hood, the place I call home, the place that has everything to do with the way I walk, talk and live.

Last week a friend of mine asked me, "Why do you love the hood so much"?.

I half asked, half answered, "How do you know that, I love the hood"?.

She replied, "A lot of people who've experienced half the things you've gotted to experience, move out of the hood, shake it off and write it off as a closed chapter of their lives".

When I heard all this, I though about Sunnyside - Pretoria, Sandton and Weltevreden Park,
between all three places I'd explored and tried to call home, something was always missing.

I was never able to put my finger on it and to this day, I still don't know why I'm so hooked on the hood.

If there's one thing I can tell you about SOWETO, it has to be the fact that, it is the ONE place I know where you are almost obliged to be yourself. Nothing more, nothing less and absolutely nothing fake.

In SOWETO, you get more beef and preassure for discarding your identity and blackness than you ever will for stealing something.

See, the hood is like one big yard. If you don't know enough people - you are totally lost and there's no other way to put it.

In my hood, every parent is my parent. They can tell me crap, chase me to Timbuktu and back and demand respect from me. We all believe that it takes a community/village to raise a child.

Everyone who is about 7 years or more my junior calls me Aus' Tumi. An unspoken or unsigned agreement.

In the hood, everyone is up in your business and no one ever misses a thing, so people always end up doing pretty fucked up things out in the open.

Not many people understand why SOWETANS never agree to the suggestion that SOWETO is a dangerous place, but, it really isn't. Infact, I feel much safer in SOWETO than I do in any CBD or residential surburbia.

Of course SOWETO is home to some of the most notorious criminals, it is most probably home to more criminals than any prison in the country. In the same breath, you too deserve to know that they are less likely to steal from you, harm you or violate you in SOWETO. To them, anyone in SOWETO is one of us - PERIOD.

Lack of Ambition - that's another one. One of my biggest worries about the place I love so much is how my people are so relaxed about everything. Nothing bothers the average township dweller. The thought of success, to my people is simple. Making it through the day. Abolova (uneployed young adults) wake-up just to chit-chat, share a joint (marijuana) and gossip about others.

In my hood, black diamonds, business moguls and CEOs are unheard of. Not that we've never had any, actually - we've had lots.

Irvin Khoza still stays in SOWETO, Sipho 'Hostix' Mabuse is still in SOWETO, Richard Maponya is a SOWETAN, Aggrey Klaaste was a SOWETAN, Lucas Radebe, Kaizer Motaung, Dr Nthato Motlana and lots of other prominent and successful people were raised in SOWETO.

It's just that, this kind of success is not a norm in the hood. The above mentioned people are the kind we refer to as diOne-in-a-million.
I guess all this is part and parcel of what people normally base their thoughts, definitions and ideas of SOWETO on. The dirt, the loudness, the chikitas walking the streets wearing nightgowns, PJs and nighties (they piss me off too), the high levels of alchohol consumption.

But think about it this way - SOWETO is home to a lot of hard working people. People who get-up daily to go make a difference. People who make the biggest difference to our economy, people who make the much heavier contribution to how this country looks, feels and functions and yet they sit at the bottom of the food chain.

My hood is home to people that have suffered so much, the only thing that matters to them is just making it through each day.

My kasi is made up of people who still believe they are no better than anyone whose skin is lighter than theirs.

In the SOuth WEstern TOwnships, all income groups are one. We share the hood, interests and hopes.

SOWETO, just like any township here in S.A, is home to people who've had to fight for everything they have including the right to express themselves in a language of their choice.

M'sauden is home to people who've raised and nurtured people who now take them for granted.

Msawawa is where talent exists in ocean loads but the know how or confidence to take it further exists in cup loads, hence the Maponyas and Khozas stands out.

My hood, is the one place I know, where you are allowed to be yourself. NOTHING more, NOTHING less and absolutely NOTHING fake....


I haven't said all there is to say, for now I'll leave it here. Leave a comment, let me know if all this is making any sense to you. Till then ....

Miss ME??
Between being a patient, a bridesmaid, mourning, and growing-up I just had to be on the down-low.

No need to answer, I know you did.

It's been a few good months since I last updated the blog and I must say I'm glad I've finally found the time, strength and topic to post a brand new entry again.
A lot has happened since my disapperance from the face of the blogging world.

First, I spent a whole week in hospital. Something about cysts on my ovary.
That s*** scares me to death. There's nothing I want more than kidz in this lifetime.
See, I am a happy average, I don't want to be the richest person alive.
I don't want fast cars, champagne and caviar.
I also don't want to be remember for anything beyond my personality.
I know I am a proffesional and I know if I were to die tomorrow, some people would remember me for loving my job and hopefully some of you will remember me for giving it my all too.
That's okay.

What would bother me is if I left this earth tomorrow and no one had anything to say or remember about Itumeleng, me, the woman, the person, the friend, sister, aunt, daughter, niece, cousin, better half.

A want to live a fulfilled life and nothing would fulfill my existence like having a family of my own, I'd even kill to be a mother.

Nuf said about my ovaries - I have a doctor's appointment soon and depending on the outcome they might have to chop and change stuff. You do get what I'm saying right?????

Second - My brother got married and his wife asked me to be one of her 8 bridesmaids.

The wedding was off-the-hook.

It was fun but please understand when I say I never want to do this again. Never.

Here is what I looked like on that day.

Third - The country also went into a state of emergency when all civil servant took to the streets and demanded a wage/salary increase.
That took long enough to solve. It put a lot of things, lives and pride on the edge.
Didn't think it affected me much until it really affected me.

Fourth- My father got sick, really sick, I mean really, really sick.

"Papa wa kula jou"("Dad is sick man") My brother says to me one evening.
"When did you see him" I ask
"Day before yesterday" Kagiso replies.
I knew what was wrong, and damn it felt like deja vu.

The exact thing had happened round about the same time last year - TB.
And because my father never took care of himself, he never actually recovered.
One year later, the desease had become deadly and the lecacy of smoking and drinking - painful.
My sister and I then agreed that we'd go see him as soon as the weekend.
Let's just say- the weekend was not good enough.
By the time we got to him, he was looking at death right in the eye, so he was rushed to hospital.
He was not himself. Different in every sense of the word. I was shocked, I'd never seen anyone that sick. He couldn't even speak.

Unfortunately he landed in hospital during the strike - no nurses, few doctors and damn it hurt.
We kept on visiting him and he was getting better.
I remember on Monday 11/06/07 when my sister Nina and I went to see him. He was smiling and responding to our questions the best way he could then.
That same night, I get a callback from my sister - I ignore it.
Another one - I ignore it. From my brother, and then I call Nina.

She gave it to me straight - 'Papa o tlhokofetse'. Suddenly, everything was beyond me.
I couldn't keep it together.

Round II of my beef with the strike came when we realised that home affairs was closed, which means we couldn't get a death certificate = we couldn't claim from insurance policies.
The support we got from friend during that time will never ever be forgotten.
It's at times like these we realise just how blessed we are.

Jimi and family, Refilwe, Smanga, Mokgadi, Lerato, Katli, Pontsho and family, the Malokas, Adam and Ntsako, good friends of Weekend Live, Thando, Promise, Nino, Sindy, Nkhensani, Boo and all your friends and family and everyone else who stood by me and my family- I CAN'T THANK YOU ENOUGH.

My best friend Henry was all the way ko States when I lost Bra Percy...
I could have used a hug from him, actually - I needed him (lump.....).

While shooting at the WindyBrow Theatre recently, I came across 2 pieces by my dad, this is one of them.
This is how he saw himself back in the 1980's.

He was a character in his own comic strip - The Free Spirit.

Another frame from The Free Spirit.
Free Spirit again.

Anyways. When I was asked to speak about my dad at his memorial service and funeral, I decided to tell nothing but the truth about him. I was out of sugar so I didn't coat anything.

I spoke about Percy Sedumedi as I knew him. The creative, the teacher, the free spirit, the artist, the alchoholic, the pot-head, the good friend but crap father. Don't get me wrong, my father was a very intelligent individual, he was the most creative person I know and nothing and no-one could take away the FREE SPIRIT in him. He taught me how to be bold, inquisitive, unafraid and to question things. For that and his friendship, I will never forget him.

I learned a lot about being a grown-woman during the week I lost and buried my dad.

That's me and one of the most significant incidents in my life. I'm sure there'll be more, I just hope I'll have the strength to deal with what lies ahead - LIFE.



I came across this article http://narratingchange.blogspot.com/2007/06/great-artist-who-drew-in-blood-tribute_28.html a few weeks after my father's passing. It almost brought me to tears, I guess that's the kind of power the truth can have on us.