From Soweto to Shanghai… finding one’s fabulosity

This piece was written by my cousin Keitumetse Diseko about growing up, finding ones self and being fabulous with it. Although it was originally written for a youth magazine I could really relate. Tumi’s journey took her from Soweto to Shanghai, via the African continent. On the way she worked for MTV, and was instrumental in championing African music on the channel. She and some friends went on to set up the MOAMA awards for African music… as you do. She’s an amazing woman with an eclectic mix of passions. But it wasn’t always easy being different from the herd, and that is something I really identify with.  I have often felt like an outsider, least accepted by the people I expected to accept me the most. I spent years either trying to bend to fit their expectations or rebelling in anger against those same expectations. Either way I was being controlled by what other people thought I should be. But, like Tumi, once I stopped wanting other people to be OK with what I am, I began to really quite like myself. And the things I tried to hide, or change to fit in, are probably my best bits. Anyway, thoroughly enjoyed this read. I hope you do too.

Growing up in Johannesburg was a big contradiction. I was born into a politically and socially active family during the politically and socially turbulent 1980’s. I spent the first six years of my life living in Orlando, Soweto, and the years following that, living in Johannesburg’s Eastern suburbs. Although I went to school in what became known as a Model C  (mainly White) school, the history and identity gained living in Soweto never left me. For a long time, I was one of very few black kids attending my school and I was the only black person in my class for a long time. At the beginning, I felt like an outsider, but I made friends, so it was ok. They were white and that was ok too, despite the tensions at the time. I was exposed to a wide variety of art, music, film and literature, and this came out more and more in my personality as I got older.

At some point through my primary school life, I got Black classmates! “Finally”, I thought. I was really excited and looked forward to playing games that were familiar to me at break time, or even to speak seTswana or isiZulu with people outside of my family. It didn’t happen that way though. Like many black kids who grew up in similar circumstances, half in one world and half out another, I had trouble fitting in. I so wished these new girls could be my friends. To them, I was an outsider, too white in the way I spoke, or too white in my preference of music. Outcast by girls who looked just like me, I just didn’t fit in.

The experience would carry on into my high school life, when I finally went the extra mile to “fit in” to what I thought was a more “kasi” ( or “gully”) experience to the one that I had experienced in my early years. I hung out in the township more, tried to make friends with amaghintsa (hustlers) or those who so badly wanted that street life. I could pretend to talk the talk and walk the walk but in reality, I still didn’t feel like I fitted into that environment and I was starting to question my identity more and more. “Who am I and how do find my place in the world? Will I find acceptance?”

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Growing up is not easy. Our parents do the best they can with what they have and more often than not, they don’t have much, except for hopes of a bright future for their children. My single mother was no exception in the way she raised my siblings and I. I grew up never doubting myself or my dreams. I had an idea of the kind of person I wanted to be and what career path I wanted to pursue, but at the same time, I also felt a deep need to be accepted by my peers, even if it meant being untrue to myself and in some instances, endangering my future prospects.

Part of growing up is being honest with yourself and figuring out what you truly want your future to look like and asking yourself “what am I doing to contribute to the success of my future?” Many young people are bullied physically, but we never consider the effects of emotional or psychological bullying – in my case, it was someone making me inferior or undeserving of friendship because of certain preferences that are considered alien. There are thousands of young people who are seriously affected by this kind of bullying. They keep silent and retreat into their shells, under-perform and even resort to trying to make people afraid of them through violent behavior.

Once I had taken control of what I want for myself, the mentality of trying to be a crowd pleaser disappeared. I took a chance and accepted a dream internship at MTV – a TV channel that I grew up watching and spent days daydreaming that I was a part of. I became part of a team that played a big part in exposing different genres of African music to each other. Our work played a big part in breaking the barriers for artists from across the African continent. I travelled around the continent, and was exposed to multitudes of cultures, music and fashion. Today, I can proudly say that I played a part in music from around the continent being accepted into mainstream South African spaces. I continued to dream: I wanted to learn new languages and to continue to travel. I wanted something different.

In 2010, I applied into a Chinese Language and Culture programme at one of the best schools in China and was accepted. I left my job and moved to Shanghai in 2011, where I’m learning how to speak Chinese. In South Africa, people often mock me about my choice to learn Chinese – do you eat dog? Ching chong cha! I’ve learnt to let those comments roll off like water off a duck’s back. For me, it’s all about learning new cultures, gaining insight and becoming an African citizen of the world. I’m not there yet, but I think I’ve come a long way in learning to follow my path and to recognise my dreams, staying head strong, no matter what people say. I am discovering similarities between my own culture and Chinese culture, and I feel like I have a home away from home. We come from a complicated history, but it makes us stronger as we navigate through life, trying to make our dreams come true. That’s the best we can hope for as Mzansi (South African) youth on a path to scratch our names onto the fabric of the world.

DJ Black Coffee, House Music and me on the BBC

Now, if you know me you will know just how much I love House music. Especially South African House music. So you can imagine how excited I was to meet the legend that is DJ Black Coffee whilst he was in London and interview him.  South African house has been growing in popularity on the UK club scene.  If you’re raving on a Saturday night in London you’re pretty likely to find yourself dancing to one of his hits, and on the night of the interview thousands of people turned out to see him play at Viva La House. But Black Coffee was really humble about his success , and has mad love for London too! The piece ran on BBC Network Africa this morning and also on BBC Focus on Africa later in the day. My colleague Audrey Brown even mentioned on air how much some of  BBC Africa’s presenters love SA House! If you didn’t catch it you can listen here  .

South Africa leads the AU

This is the new leader of the African Union: Dr Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma. It’s the first time in the nearly 50 years since the Organisation of African Unity was formed, scrapped, and then replaced by the AU, that a woman has been chosen to lead the continent. She’s a formidable, highly effective and has a strong track record of  delivery. And interestingly, I spent a fair bit of time at her house in London when I was a kid! You can  hear more about her here  in a live two-way I did for BBC Focus on Africa shortly after she was voted in.

June 16th Soweto uprising: My mother’s memories

On June 16th 1976 hundreds of children were shot and killed on the streets of Soweto. They’d taken to the streets in their thousands protest against changes to the already sub-standard education Black people were subjected to under Apartheid. They were met by the police who answered their protests with bullets.

There are varying accounts of how many died that day. But it was at least 200, and some accounts put the number as high as 400. Most were shot in the back, as they tried to flee.  The first person to be killed was Hecter Pieterson, pictured here. He was 12 years old.

My mum was a 19 year old teacher at the school where the protest began. She shared with me some of  her memories of that fateful day, so that I could share them with you. It was hard not to cry as she talked about the events of the weeks and months that followed.  I can’t imagine ever being able to go through what she, and all those other young people had to go through , let alone as a teenager. The interview ran on Focus on Africa on BBC World Service. You can listen to the story here .

Today I shall be remembering all those who gave their lives so that my life might be better. Ke a leboga. I am so very very grateful. And I will never ever forget.

“He is not a deputy Jesus Christ”… Why I will never forget Gen Cele

So Bheki Cele, the (now former) South African Police chief has been sacked. There  are many things I ought to remember him for, but I probably won’t. I will remember him for telling Archbishop Desmond Tutu he must “go home and SHAARAPP!” And that “he must not think that he is a vice Jesus Christ” . Just in case “the Bishop” didn’t get it, Cele also told him he is not a “deputy Jesus Christ” and that he “must follow Jesus”.

If you missed it you can catch it here
http://audioboo.fm/boos/435680-bheki-cele-zille-tutu-shut-up

He said this thing years ago now, but ohhhhh it still makes me laugh!

Errr Dave????

 ”DAD FORGETS TOT IN PUB LOO AFTER DRINKING WITH PALS”

That’s the headline you would have seen had Dave Cam been from Dagenham. Or called Delroy. Or been anything other than upwards of middle class.  There would have been endless “experts” commenting on Broken Britain and its’ feckless parents, asking how things have gone wrong.

Instead I woke up this morning to two heavyweight news presenters chuckling along to the story and asking for listeners to send in their funny accounts of when they lost their children.  Except it’s not that funny. Cos stuff like that doesn’t always turn out ok.

Look, contrary to what some journalists whose work I’ve read today appear to think, even though I am not a parent I understand perfectly well that mistakes do happen. And I don’t think parents ought to be beaten over the head every time they do. In fact in this case I think it’s clear it was an accident and in the course of the 18 years it takes to raise a child I think it’s perfectly understandable stuff like that can happen.

What annoys me is the treatment of the story. OK mistakes happen, but actually is it funny for the child? Really? Just because we’re not bludgeoning parents with their day to day mistakes doesn’t  mean we have to make light of what was essentially someone taking their eye off the ball when it comes to their child. Even if it was just for a moment.

And most importantly (and this is the thing that really gets my goat), are working class parents on council estates given the same understanding and leeway in the media when they make mistakes?  Would anyone have been laughing on the radio if a kid got left in the loos of the pub at the corner of my road?

It reminds me of when I heard on particular presenter (who shall also remain nameless because I really do usually enjoy her work) saying all parents have left their babies alone whilst they nip to the shop to get some milk. Well no actually not all parents have done that. And I would be utterly amazed if a parent from Brixton or Hackney would expect or had received that kind of “we’ve all done it love” understanding from the police if it all went wrong.

Double standard much?

My soap box

I keep hearing people moaning about workers striking during the Olympics. First the tube drivers threatening to do it, now it’s the bus drivers.

Today I heard several people, from a lady in the shop to someone on the radio, arguing that unions should be abolished. Not that businesses should treat workers better. That the mechanisms that allow people to stick up for themselves should be scrapped.

Now if you know me, you will know that I do like to moan about tube drivers and their seemingly endless threats to strike. So what I’m saying may seem rather contradictory. But Ima say it anyway:

We live in a capitalist society. Capitalism is about getting the best possible deal for yourself. Just as big business is perfectly entitled to get the best deal it can for itself, so too are workers. Unions’  jobs are to get the best possible deal they can in any given situation for their members. Sometimes that might involve a strike. If that should happen then the unions, just like big business, will choose a time of maximum impact. Like the Olympics. Asking them not to do so would be like saying shops should make things cheaper at the time of highest demand. It doesn’t make any sense.

Now from what I understand the bus drivers strike is about more than money. It’s about conditions of work and their relationship with their employers. But even if that weren’t the case, even if I didn’t agree with it, they should and do have every right to take the action. And an age where jobs are being cut left right and centre, and where those in jobs are having to do more for less, you would do well to be in a union. Even Robert Kiyosaki, self made millionare and author Rich Dad Poor Dad says unless you are the boss, it’s probably the best way of taking care of your own interests. And it would be stupid not to do that.

So yes, as much it’s quite easy to get riled up about the RMT’s antics,  who wouldn’t want Bob Crowe to be defending them? I know I certainly would. Perhaps then I’d be on double what I currently earn, and be able to afford to go away for the entire Olympic season! Now there’s a thought.

Oh oh oh…. D’Angelo!

I was planning to write a funny, tongue in cheek post about D’Angelo complaining that he felt objectified by women after the making of his ‘Untitled (How does it feel)” video.

Now, if you’ve not seen the video in question it features D’Angelo and his naked, perfectly defined torso, with the camera circling round him so we can fully take in the wonder that was his upper body at every possible angle. He also licks his beautiful, luscious lips throughout whilst singing “I’d love to make you wet / In between your thighs cause / I love when it comes inside of you/ How does it feel?”

I remember very clearly reading an article around the time of the video’s release where he waxed lyrical about the skills of those lips and his tongue, and how he loved the taste of a woman. So y’know, I  don’t really buy the video director Paul Hunter’s explanation that the video was about his Grandmother’s cooking.

But my plans to take the mick out of “D” (as his friends call him) for the apparent contradiction of his stance fell apart when I read the GQ article in full.

In it he says that video literally broke him. He pinpoints the making of that video as the beginning of his descent into the hell of addiction.  It was like he crossed a line and there was no going back.

He talks  a lot about forces of darkness that came into his life after he made it it. The way he explains it it’s as if he sold his soul to the devil and  it took years for God to pull him out. His ex,  Angie Stone, puts it like this:  ”It’s not a little bit of God in him. It’s a lot of God in him. Sometimes when you have that much power, Satan works tenfold to break you.”

And it’s for this reason that I haven’t actually posted the video. D’Angelo’s account of his pain is so raw and moving, I really don’t think I can look at it in the same way again.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Our D’Angelo is making a come back. I know some people who went to see him when he was in London recently. They said he really didn’t look the same. But having read his interview, I never want to see this man look that buff again. WHEW! I never thought I would ever say that!

You can read the full article here. You can also watch the video if you search not very hard online. Let me know what you think.

“I don’t work… I cant afford to work”

“I’m not working… I can’t afford to work… there’s not a job that can pay me enough money to be able to afford to pay my rent, my council tax, and to live”. The words of a caller ‘Chanel’ on Eddie Nestor’s drivetime show on BBC London, explaining why she does not work, and why the state ought to provide her with a home. She says “there’s people out there that work for literally nothing. They work, they pay their rent, they pay their tax, once they’ve got their shopping and travel they’ve got nothing so they’re working for nothing”.

Chanel on BBC London 94.9′s Drivetime Show with Eddie Nestor

Now it’s quite easy to get all Daily Mail about this, or to go to the other extreme and get a bit Socialist Worker.  I’d like to have a bit more of a rational, nuanced discussion. Chanel certainly does have an attitude of entitlement, which is annoying. However, the fact that basic wages are so low that people don’t think it’s worth it to work is a real issue. That said we are in a recession, market forces are market forces, and perhaps if the choice of being paid for by the state year after  year was taken away, more people would work.

But it’s not that simple. Listening to the story my understanding is that this woman was a victim of domestic violence, which she chose to flee rather than stay on and be beaten to a pulp. The council told her she had made herself homeless so didn’t qualify for council housing.  She then fell pregnant and was given money by the council towards her deposit for private rent. I can only assume, given that her daughter is five and she hasn’t worked during that time that the money for her rent comes from housing benefit and that money to live comes from other benefits. One could argue that she shouldn’t have had the child knowing she couldn’t pay for it. A fair question I think. But life happens. And now the child is here, what should we do? Starve them both of money so the mum goes back to work? I don’t want to go back to Charles Dickens’ London thanks.

I used to think it was the state’s job to ensure everybody had a home.  That it is a basic human right. Now I’m not sure. I’ve lived in some very dodgy places in my time because that’s what I could afford. I sucked it up, kept working , and now I live somewhere else. I think essentially you are responsible for taking care of you, not the government or the council.

There  are some who take this a step further and believe that in providing you with housing the state ought to keep you in the manner to which you have become accustomed: That the council should pay for you to live where you would like to live. That, for example, if your mum lives in Notting Hill and you’ve always lived there and now your used to living there the the benefits your given should enable you to keep living there.  My friend Mukul Devichand did a report for BBC Radio 4 which featured a woman who felt it her right to be ‘kept’ by the state in a flat in Maida Vale. Personally I think, as they say in SA “ba thatha ma chance”- Those people are taking chances , trying it, hoping they can wangle a certain lifestyle on someone else’s bill.

Going back to Chanel,  it’s easy to dismiss her because of her attitude. But I have to question what kind of society we have where a woman, with child, can’t find a job that will pay her a living wage and where we are willing to say “well tough luck love, house yourself”? And how easy is it going to be for that little girl to grow up to be a balanced and productive member of this society when she’s been dragged from pillar to post through her formative years because as a society we were busy teaching her mum a lesson? It does seem rather like cutting off your nose to spite your face.

It’s a tough subject, and one that I wrestle with a lot . Social injustice really bothers me. Poverty bothers me. I know that life’s not fair, but ought we not to try and make it so? On the other hand I also believe no one owes you anything in this life, and sometimes giving people too much help takes away their desire to help themselves.  I don’t have any definitive answers. But I’d love to hear yours. Leave a comment and tell me what you think.

Say it loud … (Olympian John Carlos says I’m right)

 Ok he didn’t mention me at all. But  speaking on the Today Programme this morning he explained that sport and politics are inextricably linked, and that therefore criticism of using sports to make a political statement is really a nonsense.

John Carlos was one of two Black athletes who made a particularly significant statement at the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico  by raising their fists in the Black power salute.  Carlos and his colleague Tommie Smith were drawing attention to the treatment of Black people in America. They wanted the world to see the hypocrisy that, as John Carlos said,  whilst they were good enough to run for their country abroad,  at home they had to live on their knees.

Around his neck Carlos wore a necklace on which each bead represented “those individuals that were lynched, or killed, or that no-one said a prayer for, that were hung and tarred. It was for those thrown off the side of the boats in the middle passage”.  Carlos and Smith were joined in their protest by Australian Peter Norman,  who took to the podium wearing a badge supporting human rights.

These were people who had dedicated their entire lives to their sport, and this was probably highest achievement they could attain. It was the culmination of years and years of dedication. I cannot imagine what it must have taken to risk that for a principle. But they did it . 

Tommie Smith beats John Carlos and Peter Norman (not in picture) in the 200m final.

The backlash was swift and severe. Smith and Carlos were immediately suspended from the US team and banned from the Olympic village. The president of the International Olympic Committee Alan Brundage said their actions were “unfit for the apolitical, international forum the Olympic Games”. The IOC said it was “a deliberate and violent breach of the fundamental principles of the Olympic spirit.  Brundage by the way was president of the United States Olympic Committee in 1936, and had made no objections against Nazi salutes during the Berlin Olympics. He argued that the Nazi salute, being a national salute at the time, was acceptable in a competition of nations.

At home they became pariahs,  ostracised and unable to compete for decades.  They received death threats and couldn’t find work.  Carlos told the Today programme that things got so bad that he had to chop up his furniture to use for firewood because he couldnt even afford electricity to keep his children warm.  Sadly Norman found it difficult to cope with the backlash he experienced when he got back to Australia, succumbing to depression and addiction. He died in 2006. Carlos and Smith were pallbearers at his funeral.

Despite all that his protest cost him Carlos has absolutely no regrets. He says sports, and in particular the Olympics, are already politicised, You can listen to John Carlos’s interview here , at about 2:50 in.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I think the argument that it’s wrong to expect sports men and women to take a stand when it comes to human rights abuses is at best naive, at worst disingenuous.  Instead of encouraging this type of narrative, I think it’s important to highlight the difference and impact it makes when DO take a stand.  To say it, and to say it loud!