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 year 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 joing (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.

Entitlement…a South African Story
I keep hearing-"The government this, the government that”.
STOP IT ALREADY.

Listening to one of Gauteng’s youth (radio) stations after the minister of finance’s budget speech this year, I got sick to my stomach. Sickened by a young lady who phoned-in, particularly to complain about the child support grant.
The complaint! - Mr Manuel (the minister), is too inconsiderate.
Why? - Because he only increased the CSG by a mere R20
The young lady went on and on about how young/single mothers deserve more.

I acknowledge that poverty is still part of the South African picture. I also acknowledge that young mothers have the raw end of the deal and that their partners (baby daddies) should do a whole lot more in helping them raise the products of their actions.

But....

...I think by now every girl who is capable of getting ‘knocked-up’ should know that it takes a male to make a baby and a man to raise one.
I also think it takes two to tango but a lot of it is up to the lady. If women can use sex as a weapon, why the hell can’t they use it to their advantage?

This country might not have the best goverment system, a liked-by-many president or the prettiest history but it is certainly alive with good possibilities.

Black people are on a goldplated pedestal now more than ever. Black women are powerful and at the forefront of very serious movements and projects.

I honestly don't think our Deputy President-Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, Wendy Luhabe or Oprah Winfrey got to the top by blaming everything on the government. It takes responsible thinking, bravery, sacrifice and hard work to get to a place of comfort unless if you are born with a silver spoon in your mouth. That's how we should start thinking SISTERS.

That brother you are trying to settle down with, who doesn't give you enough attention, he's not going to love you any better when there's a baby in the picture.

That grant the goverment gives out to young struggling mothers is not even enough to buy baby formula or nappies.

Two months ago an investigative-journalism-current-affairs programme did a whole hour on how CSG are being misused by young, single and black mothers. A lot of the young women interviewed admitted to using a large portion of the R180 to settle their personal needs (airtime, visiting the hair salon or even buying clothes).

They also admitted to knowing that falling pregnant was no option for them due to their economic status and the fact that most of them were still in high school and living with their unemployed parents. But guess what?! Not even that was enough to stop them from conceiving.

I stand to be corrected but I don't think it takes a few years in a tertiary institution or coming from a wealthy family or a rocket scientist to know that jumping in to the sack with someone without protection can result into one thing or another. No prizes for guessing what I'm on about!!!!

Being young and black has never been better, I just think people need to get out out of their comfort zones and start making a difference. To all the young women in the ghettoes- Pop a contraceptive pill, get an affirmative-action job, go to school, stay away from boys, use a condom or simply use your brain first and then your libido.

I am always sad to see toddlers (babies too) being neglected or treated like obstacles. Before falling pregnant- one needs to review their maturity, pocket, their partners bahavior and the state of HIV/Aids in Africa. For heavin's sake wouldn't you rather enjoy your life and make the best of it before you bring a whole human being into this world.

I have absolutely no beef with child support grants, I have no problems with young mothers and I also don't have a problem with people who make and stick to their choices.

It's a damn bitch when your mother has to give-up few of her comforts to accomodate your unplanned baby or a baby ends up neglected just bacause a young mother is not ready to give-up partying.

There's a lot be considered before getting preggers. Life-adjustments and being the best that you can be as a parent at the top of the list- Thank you.

Choose to have that baby, afford to raise that child, give your parents a piece of mind- they are still trying to get 'raising-you' right. To all the sisters who were misled, raped, not mentally fit, drugged or clueless when they conceived- Wish you all the best in making a good human being out of someone.

To everyone else who receives the CSG, it's there to help, I mean help you raise the baby.

One Love

Matumza

Allow me to take you back...
...to that special post


One entry I'll never forget is an entry I posted on this blog. It was my 3rd or 4th post. Through that entry I let my readers into my world, my past. I wrote about some of the things that have always made me angry. I confronted men about the way they treat women and in the same breath celebrated women.

The aim was not to speak negatively of brothers or disrespect the efforts they put into making us sisters happy. It was just to let them know how I feel the relationship between men and women can be improved.

Moseki (one of my very loyal readers) gave me an opportunity to confront women about how they wrong brothers and celebrate men through the comments panel on the same blog entry.

I titled the entry WOMAN...The hard of hardcore.

Please take some time to read this one, check out the comments and leave one yourself.

This is not only for my new readers, it is for everyone who liked this one too.

Enjoy
One Love
Matumza

Click on the link below
http://matumzaonline.blogspot.com/2005/09/woman-hard-of-hardcore.html

DECENCY
and the entertainment industry

There is a fine line between being free and lacking decency and people in the entertainment are (in my opinion) are flirting with this thin line.
The most disturbing one, Arthur Mafokate's music video. The song is titled "Sika le khekhe", this literally means "cut the cake", the catch- where Arthur and I both come from "Khekhe" has two meanings. One is sweet(literally) and the other derogatory(to women).
If you (by any chance) think I'm launching an undeserved attack on Arthur, wait until you see the video.
4 girls aged between 13 and 16 years dancing on top of a bed with very mini, mini skirts, nothing but your normal butt showing underwear beneath the skirts, camera conviniently focuses on their minor asses. And the show stopper, there's absolutely no cake in the music video.

This fueled a lot of debates in M'zantsi (that's South Africa to you Miss Fab). The SABC(National Broadcaster) banned the music video, funny how I still see it on one of their channels though.
Some people were arguing that if we can watch and enjoy american music videos that show nothing less than nudity why should we complain about Mr Mafokate's video. Some people had an issue with how young the girls in the video are, while other people were stressing the fact that no-one forced them to appear in that music video. Someone actually tried to use culture to justify the video. See back in the day when culture still was- women walked around half naked and this was not only acceptable but common practice. That was when women were still object who had no rights, feelings or opinions according to men.

I hate it when we resort to culture to suit ourselves or to justify our wrongdoings.
While we are on 'culture' I think the only thing that has remained of our culture (but is slowly fading away) is UBUNTU. One of the few things that make me proudly (South) African. We are nothing like the americans, our values will never be the same, our laws differ, our morals are not on the same wavelength and we definately think differently from them. We might love and follow some of the things they do but I think compromising UBUNTU because of what americans think is hott or not is a sign of a very weak Nation.

Look at women like Mirriam Makeba, Tina Turner, Diana Ross, Zamajobe, Judith Sephuma, Whitney Houston, Yvonne Chaka Chaka the list is endless. They are not my personal favourites but they are women who have my respect. Their talent sell them- not what they are willing to take off in front of an audience or cameras.

I have been disappointed by a number of young female artist- particularly because what they do not only affects their albumn sales but leaves a mesage (not a pretty one) in men's mind and influences little girls who look up to them.

See for yourself

Lebo Mathosa- A.K.A Drama Queen

Kelly Khumalo- Qinisela

Lil' Kim A.K.A Queen B

Let's talk. Let's exchange words, thoughts, ideas and opinions.

"Closet Smoking"

What a bitch

I can hardly remember the first time I held a cigarette between my two fingers

When I was in Matric, I would take a drag from a friend or two while we were at a party or some gathering that featured a bit of alchohol. At the time it was purely messing around in our parents' absence. My gap-year came, I had nothing to do but read thick novels and find out more about the course (Journalism) I was about to grab by the horns. I was a Drama Sub-facilitator and in the absence of the head facilitator I would teach and ‘baby-sit’ young people who were between the ages of 12 years and 18 years. They would smoke- thinking “Tumi-two-shoes” is not aware of our dirty habit. (Mind you- I was just 19-years-old).
I would watch-silently thinking- ‘What the hell do these Urban brats think they are doing?’.

Yeah, I do smoke. My family would disown me if they knew I’m doing it. And just in case you think this is enough to stop anyone from doing the puff- puff on a daily basis- Think again.

I've been at it for the past three years (on and off). When I moved to another city, Pretoria to be pricise-I started smoking seriously, If you are wondering what serious means- think about 5-6 ciggies a day. I stopped for a while and then started taking drags from Big-Mike, at the time I was involved with a guy who did everything he could to make sure I don't smoke (that was of course in his knowledge). I smoked and it got stronger by the day. When we broke-up, I felt free, free to smoke and do everything I would like to do.

They say Shame doesn't bring change, the only time a smoker kicks the habit is if and when it is within them to do so.

This day and age I kill about 7 a day and if I am by any chance working in another city (away from home) I kill about 13-15 a day. All I do is smoke, smoke, smoke. I smoke more than my boyfriend smokes and when I'm not smoking I'm thinking about smoking.

Sounds unhealthy I know, I plan to quit when I fall pregnant (that's if GOD blesses me with kids).

Keep in mind that the only person in my family who knows about my habit is my older sister Nina who by the way had a reaction and a-half when I told her all about it. No one else knows but I think my niece has an idea.

Last night as we sat with my mother in her bedroom watching TV, my niece walks in and says "Tsitsi wa bhema"- 'Tsitsi' is what she calls me and 'wa bhema' means- YOU SMOKE.

My neck stiffened, I heard my mom ask: What'd you say? "Wa Bhema, yaka bashimane". She smokes like boys is what the four year old meant. She also went on to explain to my dear Mother how she'd found 'those two things' (signaling with her two fingers on her mouth) in my bag. I ignored their little conversation, after all Fiona Coyne and the weakest links were far too interesting and please don't be fooled- My heart was beating very fast.

"Itumeleng what is she on about?". "OH- My lighter" I said "everytime she sees it she accuses me of being a smoker".

Connie Sedumedi then asked: "What are you doing with a lighter?". "I always keep one" I said "Now I have two". And that Ladies and gentlemen was the biggest lie I have ever told my mother. I feel bad about it but I feel better about protecting our relationship. See, I know my mother knows that I smoke, I also know that she doesn't know that I know that she knows that I smoke.

If she ever had to hear me say or admit that I'm a smoke, our relationship would go sour. She is an open minded individual but she is a cigarette hating mother too. I'm her youngest child and the fact that not even my brother smokes would even make it harder for her to accept my habit.

They say there's no smoke without fire? It is so true. It's just a bitch having to always pretend that you are not responsible for the smoke. Everyone but my family knows about my smoking.

What's your take on my situation? Thato thinks I should just come out and let my know know about it. YOU?