Oh, hi there!

Here’s why I am awake at 4am on a Saturday morning. Not for the preggers or the child who does not sleep through the night but family. No, we’re not braai’ing or having festivities. We are fighting. The good old fight. I won’t mention names, of course but just know that I am speaking as an innocent and mostly confused bystander.

I got woken up by yelling. Lots of it, with a few cuss words thrown in their aswell. Now, I don’t mind the cussing because come on!, but I did feel like this fight was uncalled for and perhaps a show of one’s true emotions.

If you cannot love me through the dark, because we do not love me when my light shines.

Do not stay with me because becoming a statistic is so cliche, but rather stay with me because the love you felt the very first day you saw me still runs through your veins.

Love me at worst, treat me better at mine.

Isn’t there a saying , “fight fire with fire

Now, is the saying telling you to attack using the same amo or not?

Anyway, whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this. I am an eavesdropper. I love eavesdropping. It’s a thing. Let’s all not do it in 2018. It is my thing. Now leave it alone and see what else I have to say.

My last relationship was over 5 years ago. Even though it was toxic and hurt in ways only seen now, we were never horrible to each other. Well, I was a cunt in the beginning. He was a twat. We took a small break but when we came back together we were better for it. Because we LOVED each other. I don’t ever think love was the problem. We never mistreated the other person and no matter how we felt or what kind of day we had, there was always respect. We drank together, like a handful of times but things never got out of hand. Things never escalated because we were always open and honest with each other, in our sober state. We had the kind of friends who didn’t ask dumb questions to get the other person riled up. We had friends that were respectful and who loved us, to some degree. I know that I will never act in a disrespectful way to my partner but after being witness to the travesty of tonight for 6 years now, I’m not so sure I even want to be in the same room as those people.

You should never allow anyone to speak to you like that. You should also not lower yourself to their level and react to them like. Be the bigger person. It is hard but you’ll thank yourself for it later.

You Deserve More

I am proud of you
You need to know that
Not that you don’t know that already but as Facebook keeps on regurtitating memories upon my sad soul
I can’t help but become emotional and sentimental about how small you once were
I often joke that you would stay small and get back in my belly; then atleast I’d have a real reason for having this big rolling mag
You deserve more than this life
More than feeling less than
You deserve love and happyness
Endless bounds of it
I wish I could give it to you all
The knowledge to not follow that boy to the ends of the Earth but also the knowledge that you have to make mistakes and get hurt to learn
You deserve more than mediocre, because you, my love are worth 1 hundred million thousand
You deserve only the sunshine, even peaking through the dark stormy clouds
You deserve to be loved immensely and then hurt deeply
The good and alot of the bad
Knowing that at any minute you can turn around and I’ll be right there
Being your mother makes me proud
You being my child makes me proud
If “Mother” is the only title I ever have in this earthly life, I am ok with that
No matter what other’s say
You dear Zineah have brought so much joy into the life of others’
You are loved beyond compare
By people you don’t even know
You deserve more than the little love I have to give
Because of you, I am who I am
Proud
A Mother
A Provider
I love you Zineah

May you never forget that

The word “Coloured” and why I hate it

Recently my family and I have started this ritual, in the spirit of being healthy; we try to walk a few times a wekk. A 30 minute walk / jog. It’s fun. I sweat. I pain. It’s for a good cause though (you’d understand if you ever saw in the light). But this post is not about the eternal train of wanting – to – lose – weight, this is about the ever popularised and overused term; “Coloured”

To say I identify as a Coloured would only be because that is what I have been told and from the area I have been raised; “Coloured” is the first and most natural bracket I have been put into.

I have been called

  • too white for Mitchells Plain
  • too sturvy because I am unfamilar with the wordings of my people

People have even gone as far as to say, “Are you sure?” when I tell them I have lived my entire life in the thriving drug and gang stricken community of “The Plain”

Do I get offended when I hear the term “Coloured”? NO

I do however, hate it and all the negative conotations associated with that ACI status

I am not white

I am not black

I am Coloured

  • Low level
  • Crass
  • Unintelligent

This not only what people say but how people look at me, I see the judgement in your eyes and that version of Coloured infuriates me

As soon as I loudly identify as Coloured; without a second thought I get asked to perfom stranger CCA’s (Coloured Circus Acts)

  • speak like one of them
  • say something Coloured

And then, what words do you use?

The favourite and one they always look forward to is PK

*please note that at the time of these CCA’s, I worked for a predominantly white owned company (I am not racist, just stating the facts) where it was of unheard of to still be calling your parents “Mommy” and “Daddy”, to still be living at home at 25 and to be living somewhere other than Claremont / Rondebosch

The term “Coloured” irks me even though we have Youngsta, Paxtion Fielies, Wayde van Niekerk and Craig Lucas (he is Coloured, right?) ; the sort of low level Coloureds or non TV Coloureds are still seen as kak

I am a proud Coloured girl from the Plain

I am not proud of the filthy language we use, the way we are so easily mocked and how we willingly make clowns of ourselves

I am a proud Coloured girl with a mom hailing from Lavender Hill and a dad from Manenberg

I am not proud of the way we are exploited and how the term “Coloured” is so loosely thrown around like the tik injected into our children’s veins

I am a proud Coloured girl always being told “you’re too white for Mitchells Plain but too coloured for Constantia” , as if that was some sort of compliment

I am not proud because I a writing this

Admitting that I am offended by the term “Coloured”, the term i so closely relate to; is not a good thing

Leaves me as if I am not apart of anything

As f I don’t belong

It is not a proud moment but as I bowed my head in shame when, what I assume was a drug laden gent, shouted across the field “Fiekie jou naai”; I realised that that version of Colouredness, although colourful #punright is not the version of Coloured I have ever wanted to be associated with

Perhaps it is because I am my harshest critic and worst judge

<when the one rotten apple lies in the basket too long: do we also turn brown on the inside?>

Red Cross 16 Days of Activism Story Seven | Sadie

 

One year old Sadie* was rushed to the Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital with a fractured femur. Doctors were told that she fell off the bed, but the fall was not witnessed by either parent. Sadie’s father explained that he left her alone in the family home while he used the bathroom, which was 100 meters from the house. Upon his return, he found Sadie on the floor and crying. When he picked her up, her cries intensified. He explains that this is when he noticed that there was something wrong with her little leg.

Doctors in the trauma centre at Red Cross Children’s Hospital examined Sadie and determined that the type of fracture she had, was not consistent with her father’s version of the events surrounding her injury. A child protection investigation began. After numerous social work assessments and hours of investigation, the findings of the child protection office were heart-breaking:

Sadie’s parents had lied about her fall being an unwitnessed event…
Sadie’s parents had lied about her fall being from a bed…
Sadie’s had lied about Sadie’s fall being a fall at all…

Sadie’s parents got into a physical fight and one year old little Sadie was picked up and used as human shield. In the midst of this violence, her tiny little body was pulled at and hit and in the end, the sheer force of this violence was the reason her little leg broke. Once the fight was over, Sadie’s parents continued drinking alcohol and little Sadie waited – in excruciating pain – for two 2 days before her parents brought her to the hospital.

Sadie has been removed from her parent’s home and now lives in a place of safety.

* YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW HER NAME TO KNOW THAT SHE DESERVED A CHILDHOOD

Red Cross 16 Days of Activism Story Six | Jade

 

3-year-old Jade* was staying at her mother’s boyfriend’s house. Sometime during the night, little Jade wet her bed. In most households, this would be met with a gentle reminder from a parent. The child would be reminded that it’s ok, it happens, it is not a big deal. The sheets would be changed and life would go on. But Jade did not come from “most” households. Jade came from a household were violence inescapable and for Jade, what happened next could only be described as an avalanche of abuse.

Jade’s mother’s boyfriend –  the perpetrator – proceeded to punish her while her mother watched helplessly on the side. It was reported that he allegedly covered her mouth with Sellotape, slapped her, pulled her by her hair and used her t-shirt to hang her little body on hook behind the door. Jade’s mother stated that she was unable to protect little Jade as her boyfriend had repeatedly kicked her in the stomach.

After the violence stopped, the perpetrator bathed Jade and reconciled with her mother.

The following day, Jade’s mother left her in the care of the perpetrator and when she returned home, Jade was once again in the bath with fresh bruises covering her tiny body. Jade was not walking properly and her mother noticed that there was sand in her ears. The perpetrator said that Jade had fell in the backyard. Jade’s mother called the police and Jade was brought into the Hospital. Doctors at the Red Cross War Memorial Children’s Hospital found evidence of physical and sexual abuse.

Jade been removed from the care of both her biological parents and the perpetrator and put in a place of safety.

* YOU DO NOT NEED TO KNOW HER NAME TO KNOW THAT SHE DESERVED A CHILDHOOD