Yello OBZ....

I had a very weird but exciting weekend. Yeah, I moved out of Pinelands finally. I now no longer have to worry about them snobbish white folks looking at me when I go or come back from work. They probably asked themselves if I was a thief or looking for a gardening job. Well, I now moved to Observatory, love my place, it is so cozy and it accommodates me and best of all, I am sharing it with me, myself and I. You know what does that mean right? Well, if not then you need to work on your thinking abilities.

My big sister Lesego and her friend, Nozi came to visit on Saturday and I was glad they came. On Sunday, I just decided to have my usual time all by myself but I craved for a glass of wine so badly. The other thing that I love about my place is that I only get to walk for 10 minutes before I get to work, no more waiting for the flipping train for an hour before I can get to work. I just love it OK. Well, let me get back to work before I get fired.

Nelson Mandela's six tips of Leadership

Courage is not the absence of fear – it’s inspiring others to move beyond it.

Mandela was often afraid during his time underground, during the Rivonia Trial that led to his imprisonment, during his time on Robbin Island.

“Of course I was afraid,” he later confessed. “It would have been irrational not to be. I can’t pretend that I’m brave and that I can beat the whole world.

“But as a leader, you cannot let people know. You must put up a front.”

Lead from the front – but don’t leave your base behind.

Mandela initiated negotiations with the apartheid government. His reputation was on the line. He went to each of his comrades in prison and explained what he was doing.

Slowly and deliberately he convinced them that negotiations were the route to go.

Lead from the back – and let others believe they are in front.

Whenever he held meetings with his colleagues, Mandela would allow them to speak while he listened attentively – only after they had all spoken would he speak.

It is wise to persuade people to do things and make them think it was their own idea.

Know your enemy – and learn about his favourite sport.

As far back as the 1960s Mandela started learning Afrikaans. Everyone from ordinary jailers on Robben Island to PW Botha were impressed by Mandela’s willingness to speak Afrikaans.

Keep your friends close – and your enemy closer.

Mandela believed that embracing his rivals was a way of controlling them; they were more dangerous on their own than within his circle of influence.

Mandela also recognised that the way to deal with those he didn’t trust was to neutralise them with charm.

Appearances matter – and remember to smile.

Mandela understood the historical correlation between leadership and physicality. He understood how his appearance could advance his cause.

As a leader of the ANC’s underground armed wing, Umkhonto weSizwe, he insisted on being photographed in fatigues and with a beard. Throughout his career he has also been concerned about dressing appropriately for his position. – Source: Time and Leadership magazines.

African Institute for Mathematical Sciences

The revival of science in Africa has been made firm since the year 2003. This brainchild belongs to Prof. Neil Turok who is a Cosmologist. The institution called AIMS is situated in Muizenberg, South Africa in a renovated hotel and the students learn and live at this building. They stay there for the duration of the course which is nine month. Since the running of the institution, over 200 students have graduated from AIMS. The attention is given to graduates who have a back-round in all the disciplines of science from all over Africa. Securing admission is not easy since an applicant must show interest and also results must speak for themselves.

AIMS acknowledge the realities of a multilingual society and a multilingual environment. The institution subscribes to an accommodative multilingual framework according to which functional multilingualism is implemented. What goes on inside the building is solidarity, brotherhood and sisterhood, ask me I know all about it; a new community, a new family. There is no university in the world where you can find people of different cultures and color, living, sharing and studying together like at this institution. The director, Prof. Hahne said most of the students see studying at AIMS as an opportunity of a lifetime and they give it all they got, I just can’t dispute that.

Lectures are given by cutting edge lecturers all over the world for the whole of seven months and the last two students do write an essay on a topic of their interest. The course is structured such that each student tend to do a different course which they might have taken at the university or never before in order to ensure that after finishing with the course they are able to correspond to other scientist in different fields. The approach is also slightly different from the university where the student comes from because mathematics is no longer a pen and paper when studying at AIMS, rather students uses computers also. Unfortunately, I chose to go the marketing route.

This institution is well represented by its alumni all over the world (including me of course) and this is leading to other projects like this one to develop in Africa, the project is called AMINet, you must check it out. Running the institution is not easy even though if a student is given admission you have secured a scholarship that covers everything a student need, thanks to the sponsors and also the South African government which has been sponsoring AIMS. I had a privilege of meeting the minister of education, Naledi Pandor to name few. I made friends all over Africa and I feel like an African because I can go to any country in our continent and I can assure you I will never sleep on the street. One of my favorite lecturers was Liz Moyer, I have never meet someone who is so energetic and willing to take time of her busy schedule and come down to Africa to share the knowledge she has.

If you want to read and learn more about this amazing place, we you can go ahead.

Who is who?

The world was astound by the Xenophobic attacks that were taking place in south Africa. From there, we hear big name, the likes of Archbishop Desmond Tutu saying the attacks are a sign that the poor South Africans are flogging because they have waited a long time for the promises made by the Government to be delivered.

I'm black, a South African black who is poor and did not go as far as discriminating people because of their nationality or race. There is one thing that was not explored when the appointed committee was investigating the cause of these attacks. Black people here are still in living in an apartheid era even though we have been a liberal country for the past 12 years.

• My people prefer to respect a white person compared to their own.
• We believe we can get rich, and white people are the only ones who are rich.
• We believe we speak the same language.

To substantiate the last statement, here is what I find:

• If I am black and stay in Cape Town, I am either a Xhosa or a foreigner.

When I come across fellow brothers and sister at the shopping mall or in the taxi or train, they speak to me in Xhosa, and if I say I don't understand I get weird looks, and they start talking to others in their language about me. The most question you would hear is, where does he come from? The response they get is, He is a kwerekwere. If you try your best to speak English, they say they are not white people. I fell so ashamed to talk to them most of the time because I don't know their native language. But do they know mine? No. That is not all, you get looks too when you answer the phone in your language, most of the time I feel like ignoring my calls. this is not happening only in Cape Town, it is everywhere in South Africa.

You raise eyebrows when you talk in your language but when a tall beautiful French lady start saying," bonjour, comment allez-vous ?" after picking up her phone, she does not get the looks you as a black person do get. If you are black and speak French, then again you are a foreigner.

I think what could be done to ease this stereotype in our society is to take all black South African and put then in a rehabilitation centers, I strongly "believe" that our minds have been programmed to think and behave the way we do and that needs to stop.

Funerals...

I spent most of my time thinking about how my funeral will be like when I decide to leave this horrifying planet. I went as far as writing my own eulogy, crazy isn't it. There is one thing that intrigue me to date though, it is how we perceive funerals according to our race and religions.

The way white people mourn for their loved one is different from the way blacks in South Africa mourn. Mind you black people are not all wealthy, well, few are rich but the rest are poor but still make ends meet.

When a white person dies, he/she get to be kept in a morgue for close to three days and buried on the fourth day or end up being burnt to ashes (Ooh sorry, cremated). The number of people attending the funeral will be around twelve or so unless the deceased was a well know person. The funeral service gets to be conducted in a church and last for 15 minutes. When the priest is now done with his speeches that went like, " ashes to ashes", in my language it will be molora mo moloreng, everyone goes their different ways or go to have a cup of tea at home. Now tell me, how much do you think the bereaved has spent to have the deceased buried? Think about it. I would say less than five thousand. You get to hear those who attended the funeral raving on about how great the funeral was, the dignity imposed really showed how well the bereaved appreciated the deceased. One thing that I love about white people's funeral is that they attendees will be wearing black outfits representing a mourning period. That's respect right there... Don't you agree.

Now, back to my people, black people in South Africa. I don't know what I am about to write about here is also being experienced around the whole Africa, unless a western culture is being practiced.

When one of my people die they are kept in a mortuary for two flipping weeks. Are we that special to be kept in a freezer for that long? OMG, and the family visit the morgue everyday to wash the corpse, put on make up and so on. Maybe all this is lead by the fact that the three women in the bible, Maria Magdalene, Jesus Mom, and darn I forgot the third one, went to Jesus tombstone, holding perfumes to smear it on his body? Who knows, Amasiko nje. The reason I am saying that is the fact that my folks were so frustrated when my uncle kicked the bucket few years ago, they never got to mourn, they kept on worrying about what people would say if they come to pay their respects and there won't be anything to give them (coffee, tea, or food). What a culture. We go to a length of getting the most expensive coffin, and then we have to worry how the deceased will be coffined. We buy an expensive suit at Truworths, whereas he died while he/she was used to feel comfy when wearing a simple pair of a jean and T's. Is that respect? I bet to differ. I want to be buried in my favorite T's and my funky bermuda. Otherwise I will haunt those who put a suit on me. There are things that need to be done when a black person is given a respectful burial:

• The priest get to be bought, some pastors charge close to R2,500.00 to conduct a burial service.
• Ladies, amantombazana, they need to come and peel the rind off the vegetables, then make fancy salads.
• During those two weeks while someones poor body has been refrigerated, close to seven sheep's and three goats need to be slaughtered. Mind you, one sheep cost R600.00 nowadays if you get it on a bargain, the owner will tell you that he had slashed the prices.
• You would have visited the supermarket four to six times already, no matter the interest rate surging all the time and per visit you spent over R1,000.00.
• If the deceased wasn't paying his dues at church, you will have to pay from the year he/she stopped paying. Never mind the fact that you hired a man of god.
• We would want the funeral to be done with "green grass".
• Every family member's got to have an outfit for Saturday when the deceased will be buried. It's all about fashion.
• NB:A cow has to be slaughtered. Back at home they call it a "Bus", if your neighbors did not see that the cow has been slaughtered, well, you might as well count them out of those who will be attending the funeral.
• As if that is all, the poor bereaved worry if Thabo Mbeki will be attending the funeral, and will he be coming with six black BMW's or what.
• The list is endless.

I might be unfair here because I know a lot about darkies funeral than my white friend's. In a black community, a good funeral means the number of people who attended and how tasty the food was. Who was wearing what? Ladies aren't afraid to wear pink, I mean a bloody flipping pink outfit as if they are attending Hancock's movie premier. Now this is what gets under my skin, it goes beyond vexing me, is the phone ring tones you hear when the priest is praying. At this point, it is when the organizers are checking if the after party celebration is still on. You get Mr See Me Please singing to the top of his voice because he saw Miss Thang wearing designer sunglasses that fills her whole face, and the poor thing her nose is so flat, you just see the nostrils, and the guy is trying his luck.

Funerals are no longer dignified in our black communities, I think the SAMA awards are dignified compared to funerals now. The feedback you get from the two events correlate perfectly.

At this point, I only attend funerals of my closest family members and friends. The reason being, I ran out of outfits to wear and apparels are now expensive. To update your wardrobe will require a three months salary.