Some Lemonade from life's lemons

This post was originally for a competition but it's over & I didn't get chosen, so these are some pictures of me.

All white Surprise Party for a friend

Barefoot Interview with Goldfish at Synergy Live :) So much fun!

HHP at Zula Bar on Long Street -I respect that promotes Our language - Setswana!

Me drawing my heart out on Table Mountain for 1000 drawings initiative

Me trying something fascinating at Synergy Live in Franschoek on Boschendal Wine Farm

Surprise party for friend - what a good time we had

Me at home - my mom was baking biscuits this day and each time I see that kitchen I can smell them! Yummmmy!

Visiting a friend of mine to see his little pups before they were all sold :(

I love dressing up :)

Triomf - The Movie

*Original Post – Monday, June 08 2009, 11:20pm

So I rounded up a couple of friends that were willing to watch the South African made movie based on a South African novel written by Marlene Van Niekerk - Triomf tells a tale of a poor white Afrikaner family that lives in the placed formally known as Sophiatown.

The time is 1994. And the political landscape is about to undergo a dramatic change. They are uncertain, yet certain of doom. The movie was surprisingly well directed and executed. There were a lot of uncomfortable scenes that make us all cringe. Like the incestuous scene involving the mentally retarded 20-year-old boy and his mother. How uncomfortable and highly disturbing! The movie touches on a lot of sensitive hush hush topics regarding Afrikaner families and the grim truth that the walls would tell if they could.

The story is one that didn’t focus too much on politics but gave a good indication of how things were back then for poor white South Africans. An angle I had personally never seen but have always been curios to explore.

Countless laugh out loud scenes made the teeth grindingly uncomfortable one a teeny bit easier to sit through.

I’m proud that South Africans are becoming more willing to uncover the real truth about our horrible past.

The stories need to be told. Only then can we heal as a nation.

We’re so infatuated with covering up our unbalanced and unfair past and equally obsessed with moving forward without addressing the emotions experienced that undoubtedly prevail to this day, that we can’t simply (ok, maybe not so simple) stop and look back and dissect.

The level of horror violent crimes endured by citizens of this country is a sure sign of the kind of deep-seated anger burdening men and women of this land.

I’d be interested in seeing how many Saffies actually knew about if let alone went out to watch it.

Reminds me of a movie released a few years ago “Catch a fire” that uncovered the truth we all read about in history books. I wonder how many bums warmed seats in the theaters during its duration.

I’m convinced we’re a nation scared to stare our past in the face and work through our faults.

It’s needed.

Desperately so.

Triomf was screened in the smallest theatre at the Labia Theatre - an independent movie theatre in Cape Town.

Indicative of the kind of people we are.

Seeds have been planted and are expected not to flourish into something. Trees are sprouting all over the place, those of anger, frustration, self-hatred and intolerance. They need to be pruned and healed.

*Once again due to my undeniable attachment to procrastination (this was written a hefty 6 months ago, but only getting shared now)

Will the real SA please stand up!

This article is inspired by the intense feeling in my heart that wells up each time I tune in to the reality of the inequalities in this Country. It’s my home and I’m supposed to love it unconditionally. But I don’t. Right now I detest it.        

It’s now an official fact. South Africa is the country with the biggest gap between rich and poor. How have we let this happen?      

15 years since democracy I would have hoped that we would be united enough to begin creating channels that allow those at the bottom of the pile the opportunity to dust themselves off and feed themselves. The efforts have no doubt been made, but they are clearly not effective enough. Changing our education system ever so often does more harm than good to the recipients of it.      

I’ve struggled for a long time to pin point what needs to be fixed first in order for everything else to fall into place. I have now, after many a dinner party conversation, many a braai time discussion, decided that EDUCATION is the key. You can not make informed decisions with the lack there of. It is impossible to even be aware of what you are actually entitled to without it, you can never even know when you are being cheated without it.         

It’s the powerful torch that’s necessary to brighten the paths of generations to come.     

We have been fortunate and blessed enough to have a peaceful transition during the change of power. No bloodshed. Just deep gashes, wounds and scars in the memories of all that had to endure that horrible past. (Which did consist of that).  

And now the remnants of a past so heinous it never leaves us and threatens to rip the wounds open on a daily basis.      

Townships. Squatter Camps. The intense clarity of entering Surburbia after visiting a town ship. All constant reminders of what was.         

When people come to South Africa they may have read about our history, some not. You may never understand the full extent of what Apartheid stood for unless you experience it first hand. Or come as close as possible to experiencing what the reality post-apartheid is like.

The tourism industry does not do this (massive) part of our reality any justice.      

Too many times I have had friends coming to visit Cape Town and seeing the post card view of it all - The mountain, the sea, the restaurants, the pristine beaches, the party & club scene, the surf sub-culture, Long street, the museums - and not having their eyes opened to the harsh (but very real & enriching) reality of South Africa: the poverty, the lack of service delivery to the parts of South Africa that are described as “previously disadvantaged”, the cultures from the people who’s culture it is. Once you have a peak into this so very interesting world you will realise that there is absolutely nothing “Previously” about those that live in these areas. They are still disadvantaged.         

It’s very evident.      

I'm fortunate enough to have the opportunity to go home once a month (to a Township/location called Ga-Rankuwa) and this grounds me and reminds me of where I’m from. It’s very easy to forget what the realities are although I grew up in that environment & have been immersed in it for the greater portion of my life (19 out of 22 years).

Its so easy; when I return to Cape Town; to this luxury I now call a home - with a pool, high walls, armed security system, electric fencing and a bird song infested garden; to lose touch & to stop caring about the masses that struggle.         

Something drastic has to change if we intend to be truly united. More arms need to be stretched out over the proverbial fence if we want to see this country flourish. If we want to keep the title of “Rainbow nation” bestowed upon us after the incredible Madiba saved an entire nation.      

We need to get a grip of reality & participate in active unity. We owe it to ourselves, those before us & those that are yet to come.

Hair defines Us - wait read on..

So a couple of weeks ago (when I wrote this it was weeks, now its months due to my attachment to procrastination) I was invited to watch a dance performance at the UCT dance school. The performance was on hair.

Hair?

Yup, hair.

I was awfully interested in hearing this notion out. We were all seated and it began -The journey to understanding why on earth anyone would base an entire performance on hair.

I must admit I smiled a little when I went to the bathroom just before it began and looked at mine. What an absolute mess!

The show began with an explanation of how the initiative started. It was a collaboration between UCT students and Jikeleza dance school (based in an underprivileged area and therefore the students were from the same background)

The lady who trained them got them to speak about their feelings related to hair and got them to get in touch with the way they felt about hair.

When they began dancing I was, naturally, trying to understand what they were trying to say about how they felt or what they were trying to portray. It was more difficult than anticipated. To penetrate one’s thoughts is hard enough and to try and make sense of what their movement meant; more so.

There was a question and answer session at the end of it all where all the girls got to answer questions from the audience. I love this concept. It made me feel closer to the dancers and made me feel like a part of the goings on which I really liked.

This decision revealed other things about the girls. Most of the girls from the townships had a very difficult time expressing themselves. It was almost as though they wanted to be invisible so said as little as possible.

There were a handful of girls that had a chance to speak as part of the performance and one of the girls was blonde. She explained how irritating it was that people would sum up her level of intelligence based merely on her hair colour. I was astonished to learn this as I had previously walked around with the thought that “blond girls have it easy” when in fact it was the opposite when it came to the professional environment. So my question was what advantages she gained from her hair colour (There had to be some). This young lady I posed the question to was very opinionated and intelligent and didn’t actually get to a point where she said that she benefits until the very end where she said sometimes she uses her femininity.

Her femininity.

I have that too.

This seemingly light-hearted performance turned out to be of much more importance and dispelled some preconceptions we had about each other’s hair. (And in a strange way our cultures and backgrounds)

We should have more of such gatherings. The quicker we dispel untruths about each other the better equipped we are to fight intolerance and bridge the seemingly insurmountable differences of race, creed and culture.

If Days Had Colours

I have often thought of my life as a huge canvas with lots of different BRIGHT, sometimes dull, grey and boring colours splattered on it. This past Saturday was particularly colorful to say the least…

I believe I was made for Television. We all have something within us that is bouncing to come out (we either listen or suppress it) and that part of me has been for a while. I’m a performer and entertainer at heart. I feel it always and hear it always.

So I decided to stop being a silly, damp, chicken and go ahead & take a dive for it. It’s the least I could do for myself right? I went ahead with well hidden quivering knees to meet the producer and the host of the proposed show. We spoke about all kinds of topics close to our hearts, which made it all the more comfortable.

I then did a screen test where I had to interview a young lady I had previously met and who inspired me to the core (she almost made me cry with her music, that emotive voice and lyrical content). Thobekile.

Must add how important I felt holding the microphone. I didn’t want to let go. It was mine. I was meant for this after all. Right?

The interview I did was natural, fun & engaging (I would like to believe).

So back to the story about my Techniclour Saturday - This was the day I would hear the news that I had indeed clinched the job! I was beside myself with pure joy. I felt like I was radiating a bright pinky orange hue into the world and those around me.

Then it was off to Langa to join in the festivities of a fun day organised by one of my friends who I met on a life-changing course called the Lucca Leadership Course. He & a friend of his run the sport development aspect of a youth development program and they had put together an amazing free training session of tennis. There was live entertainment offered by the children and youth of the area. From gumboot dancing, to traditional Xhosa cultural dance.

We got taught how to play tennis. By youngsters in their twenties. I was adamant I wouldn’t grasp a thing but was proven wrong.

At the end of the day I was the last woman standing (nope; not on any kind of merit – only because I got sucked in – Hi, my name is Emily & I have an addictive personality). A few innocent –literally– bystanders fell victim to my over-zealous slamming of the ball (the oldest must have been 15). I’m still cringing.

I loved it. The tennis playing that is…

Earlier this week I won a competition (did I mention I’ve been crowned Little Miss Fortunate? It was a small ceremony I must say - me, myself & I) which allows me “+ 1” to gain entry to my favourite party hosted by Fiction on a monthly basis & get gear sponsored by one of my favourite street wear brands Butan Wear.

My choice of “+1” is a friend of mine (who shares a birthday with me – had to squeeze it in somewhere) new to Cape Town so I dragged her along and had giggles for Africa. She reminds me of myself when I was younger, plus a touch of what I imagine my lovely boss was like when she was younger (could be the English accent or the haircut) add a tasteful dose of eccentricity and you’ve got Miss Sara Pee.(She’s 18, gorgeous and so refreshing!)

Her dress strap decided to unhook in the front & we spent a good half an hour trying to fix it on the balcony using a safety pin to put it in place. She really looked like she was expressing milk. It was hilarious.

We danced & danced and danced. We then went to the corner store to get Chocolate to calm her inner Emily. I got some Ice cream. Yum.

On the walk back I saw a Lime abandoned helium balloon in the middle of Long Street. I had to have it. I could see it floating in my room in my minds eye. So I dashed for it. But things didn’t quite work out as planned and it turned into a death defying act. I got the balloon in the end (despite the taxi driver yelling “Jou Poes” out of his car door…) that’s all that matters. Ice cream in hand and floating balloon in the other.

What a day. Work the next day: bright & early.

Bubbles of Joy

I love my life so much right now.

Life has a funny way of showing you what to attract into your life
and if you listen hard enough at
the ever evident vibrations
of the direction you
should be going in
we reach our
desired
destination
and achieve that
inexplicable warm
happiness we all wish to
attain when we go to bed each night

Listen, feel, open yourself up and be ready to receive.

Stumbled Upon This

"We are born at a given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have the qualities of the year and of the season of which we are born.

ASTROLOGY does not lay claim to anything more."

Stumbled upon this sometime ago. Thought I should share.

I need an alarm clock

Tuesday, December 2, 2008 at 1:11pm

This morning.

I woke up from an amazing nightlong dream that I had gone on a road trip with my cousins & friends.

Feeling happy from the dream I leisurely got up to get ready for work. I looked at the nearest cell phone – it’s 11:48am! I switched on the T.V to see if there was anything on that I could recognize was a show that played while I normally get ready for work…Generation repeat, Rhythm City repeat, countless insurance adverts, SHIT! No morning live here!

Panic-stricken I rush to the bathroom, brush my teeth take the shortest shower I’ve ever taken in my entire life, got dressed, ran downstairs, grabbed my car keys, ran to the car barefoot.

The guy who does the complex garden opens the gate for me, I ask him (hoping for the best) what the time was…he doesn’t know. I ask “Is it after 11am?” his reply: a vigorous nod followed by a firm “YES”.

Jump into Herbie, switch my phone on, text my boss “I overslept badly, coming in now, so so sorry!” drive like a mad woman to work (it took me 20 mins from the time I woke up to get to work) rush in to open the shop (we have strict rules about when the shop should be open 10am sharp etc..) breathing heavily – panthing rather- I enter the shop switch on lights and prep the shop. As I put my bag down. I glance at the credit card machine….

Its only 9:24am.

Glaceau Vitamin Water Pop Up Store: Dubstep Boogie

Apart from the fact that I have fallen hopelessly in love with Dub step; on Friday night, despite the stay-in-go-nowhere-snuggle-up-movie-marathon weather, we weathered the storm & headed to Loop Street (a rare occasion I might add) but anything for my beloved Dub step.

We were quite curious also to inspect the concept of "Pop up store". The style of the store was precisely what my imagination had concocted before hand: Predominantly white with bursts of colour. Modern, clean design with an area to cool chill (The term I use to describe the phenomenon of relaxing while looking/seeming fashionable...)

There were endless supplies of free Vitamin water (this would describe the odd handful of drunk individuals making their way through the crowd). Being me, I sampled each & every variant available from berry flavoured Power C promising to boost the immune system to XXX : acai-blueberry-pomegranate (in case you were wondering the XXX stands for "triple oxidants").

The bunch that had gathered in this space would be best described as hip, trendy & relatively fashion conscious, the accents circulating the room lead me to believe that there were a lot of international visitors in this venue.

The vitamin water concept is growing on me at snail's pace, but growing nonetheless.

The funky, quirky labels on the bottles make you want to support this brand & product in a strange manner. Here's a label I peeled off.

While we glugged our oh so healthy H₂0 we grooved to the delicious & equally addictive beats of Miss Funafuji.

The Pop Up Store will be available until June. So you best get over there and check it out.

Find out more about vitamin water here

Numerous pics here

The Joys of Public Transport (Yes, they do exist, even in SA)

After a series of extremely distasteful events, I find myself in a situation where I need to make use of public transport once more. I've been a taxi commuter for the greater part of my life & therefore have absolutely no problem utilising this form of transport since I've been forced (by circumstances - partly within my control at that that-it's complicated) to suspend Ruby's most-times-capable engine.

The minute I stepped into the taxi this morning, I slowly; gradually recalled the little things I love and consequentially miss about public transport. So in order of importance here goes:

• Being able to look out the window (for any reason apart from checking my blind spot) & actually take in the sights.
  
• Not having to visit a petrol station & sigh in despair at the price of fuel. I now pay R5 each way.
  
• Encountering different people that unknowingly remind me that happiness is a choice.
  
• Exposing myself to absolutely no risk of picking up any kind of traffic fine (deserved or disputed)
  
• Worrying about getting people safely to our desired destination. Big relief.
  
• Passing places I would otherwise never come across because I need to walk.
  
• Stumbling upon bargains whether it be clothes or food, but bargains nonetheless.
  
• Nodding my head in disapproval as the taxi driver does something totally illegal (but quietly take a mental note if it works...)
  
• Having the door opened & closed for me.
  
• Listening to random music I would never willingly commit myself to listening to because I don't control the radio. It can be surprisingly enjoyable at times.
  

Public transport in SA has a long way to go to meeting 1^st world requirements. The new BRT system will undoubtedly give us a shove up the ranking scale. It will open up the possibility of public transport usage to a wider range of people. Many will feel safer & will be more efficient warranting a reliability sticker. I hope the issues surrounding it are resolved soon so that we can fast improve our current system.

Image obtained from this webpage

Kids on Leashes

They are attracted & amazed by the most peculiar of things. They take off unannounced & pursue their latest interest; whether it be a broken off lizard's tail, a duck, a cute fluffy pup or toys in a toy store. So I absolutely positively understand that an eye needs to be kept on them at all times. But a leash?

A leash?

Like miniature speaking, crying dogs they are manoeuvred through shopping malls & markets.

This invention makes sure they stay within about a 1m radius from mom or their keeper. But a leash?

There was a lady that walked into the store with an adorable young chocolate boy in her arms. Very sweet. 

Later the young man loosened up a little and was let down from mom's safe arms. As he explored the shop he became increasingly absorbed by the sights; he went on to open a cupboard adjacent to mom's knee & explored the world which was the inside of the cupboard...

It's now time to leave and he is livid. He wants to run around and giggle but something unnatural about his tiny movements prompts me to investigate. 

He is on a leash (a short one at that) and in that moment right then & there, there was an uncomfortable; incorrectness in the air. Wow.

Leashes are for dogs not children. Parents have to learn that children need to roam free. It seems a tad more than selfish to restrict them only because you lack a certain something (bar disability) that allows you to keep up. 

Children need to chase after their limited understanding of interesting, wonderful, amazing. It's their right. A necessity. I can't begin to contemplate the plateau of possibilities of issues these young ones will uncover up years later.

.

I'm nocturnal

I come alive when everyone goes to sleep I feel like my brain works the “wrong way round”. At night when everyone scrambles off to bed I want to stay up and watch movies, I want to head out and go sit on the beach I want to go to signal hill and watch the city wake up slowly, gradually. I want to stay up and watch the city go to bed, I want to observe that silent, pure moment in the city when everything just comes to a complete and utter halt (it seems time is in on this one too) just for a little while nothing is wrong and everything feels just right.

My mental scrap booking takes place after dark too. I archive all my memories and experiences of the day, sometimes I just replay moments gone by, like looking at photos from the past and reminiscing on those feelings while giggling within at all the goofy antics that take place around me, involving me or not.

I love owls, there are known to embrace solitude and the night. I don’t know so much about constant solitude but solitude alas is wonderful.

Contrary to popular belief not all owls are nocturnal; in fact the colour of their eyes will tell you precisely when they come out to play.

Dark brown or black eyes = nocturnal activity

Orange = dawn or dusk

Yellow eyes are diurnal and hunt during the day

The last time I checked mine fell under Dark Brown/Black eyes.

And the plot thickens.

Portobello On Long

I went to a vibrant, different event 2 days ago organised by someone I know. I had previously agreed to go to it and made a mental note to remember when I get back from the big bad city – Johannesburg.. It was hosted at Portobello on Long Street (vegetarian dining spot). I have many a time been attracted to that spot but just never went in there. Sadly enough it was the last time an event such as the 1 attended would ever be held there, and the last time those meals would be served, and the last couple of cups of green tea, espresso, cuppa chino would be served. The event was a sort of happy beautiful goodbye to that lovely, welcoming, homey space. Urban Peacock hosted the event and it was a true feast for the soul. If I were a man named Portobello and I was being laid to rest under such circumstances I would truly be a little more than just delighted. I would be content with the send off.

We were indulged in performances by a range of highly talented yet down to earth performers. What an interesting concoction. The first performer was a young lady called Thobekhile on the guitar she seemed to know as well as the back of her hand. She sang 3 pieces that made me think and most importantly feel. Wow. Second was Simphiwe who spoke with great fluency and expression. Involved us intellectually in a way that would forever stay with me, my favourite “Hip hop I love you, Hip hop I love you not” (yummy title).

A few minutes later and I was informed for the 1^st time ever that there were a whole bunch of fully completed election ballots in a car in Khayelitsha ( a township in Cape town) this after word that DA had won over 50% of the Provincial vote (Western Cape). What a heavy chunk of information to take home. Better to be aware than not. Lutho sang for us. So beautifully we just wanted him to continue. On and on and on. Until until.

A surprise and undoubtedly different vivid performance was served loud and warm ( I didn’t catch the name) then Meridrian :comprised of beautiful Kim & Seth raised hairs and summoned Goosebumps in their near flawless in sync music. Before they began they explained where they were coming from “a stratosphere where everything was okay & right” or something close. It was clear after their performance what they meant. If I was forced to box & lable their sound I would describe it as a dreamy, floetic blend of lyrics & flow that sucks you in. Not sure that labels them much but that’s my answer and I’m sticking to it.

Then there was Moratiwa Molema; I just love that name. It means “My love” or “loved one” in Setswana. I’m Tswana. I later spoke to her and found out she is from Botswana. She calmed us down and got us clapping rhythmically to her sharp subject matter and rhythmic piece.

I was intending on staying for 30mins max but ended up meeting new interesting people that I would have otherwise never come into contact with. Having inspiring conversation and scrumptious vegetarian cuisine (I’d describe myself as a carnivore, yes, not quite omnivore – there should be a name given to those with eating habits between omnivore and carnivore) and Yet I enjoyed the meal immensely.

The performances were chillingly relevant to how the world’s ticking right this moment. I was a sponge absorbing as much as I could of this little nook – Portobello that is to be no more after that evening. But as one of the staff said “only the lord knows”.

Either way I’m glad my soul reveled in its presence for the short time it did.

What a place.

(I have to mention this - Sivuyisiwa; pictured above; was a lovely, confident, eloquent host – her passion is contagious. There were several acts that were not at all planned...that’s quite something) Urban peacock I look forward to your next offering

PICTURED BELOW: Sergius my lovely photographer (I kinda hijacked him and asked him to please forward me the pics he took there, he's back in Singapore now and sent me this amazing pic he took on the -YES- GREAT WALL OF CHINA!)

Thobekile

.

Lethu

Kim & Seth make up Meridrian

Moratiwa & her entrancing flute

The weird...

& Wonderful surprise performance.