I want no part of God or Naledi

Homo naledi is a racist plot using pseudo-science to link Africans to subhuman, baboon-like creatures. It sounded mad, and Mathole Motshekga and Zwelinzima Vavi were roundly jeered on social media for expressing it. I joined the chorus, because gigantic ignorance should not be tolerated in our leaders. But I can also understand where such paranoiaContinue reading “I want no part of God or Naledi”

There are no others

Translation is a tricky thing. Meanings are missed. Words slip. It’s possible that King Goodwill Zwelithini said that foreign nationals are valued contributors to the economy, and the translation just came out a bit wonky. It’s even possible that you and I were asked if we wanted R148,000 of our taxes paid to Zwelithini everyContinue reading “There are no others”

History? Herstory? Ourstory? Whosestory?

The Holocaust didn’t happen. Not the way the Jews want us to think it did. Yes, the Nazis killed thousands. But the gas chambers? The ovens? Myths, invented by Zionist propagandists. The young man who told me this wasn’t your average Holocaust denier. For starters he was South African, and studying politics at the UniversityContinue reading “History? Herstory? Ourstory? Whosestory?”

The Rhodes less travelled

In the centre of Washington DC, the monuments are clustered, white and hard, like teeth in the jawbone of a titan. Pillars, rotundas, plinths, monoliths; all proclaim that this is the Forum of the new Rome. Their uniformity is numbing. White marble quickly begins to wear down any kind of human response. You wander pastContinue reading “The Rhodes less travelled”

“What a dust do I raise!”

Once, in certain sweaty parts of the world where the main exports were bananas and refugees, it was fashionable to name infrastructure after ideologues. South Africa has managed to restrain itself – you’re unlikely to find the Thabo Mbeki Glorious People’s Communal Tap – but we do still have a weakness for renaming roads afterContinue reading ““What a dust do I raise!””

The past is a fogged mirror

Susanna sits, flanked by her grandchildren at the edge of the fading family portrait. Her face is vague, the imprecise chemistry of the photograph eroding her features into mere hints of a thin, tight mouth, of wary eyes. But then you look away, back to the men. It is they who draw the eye inContinue reading “The past is a fogged mirror”

Let them drink gin

The estate agent sniffed me over and knew I wouldn’t be buying, but the rain was drifting down in sheets over the city and nobody had come in all morning. Boredom trumped disdain. He stretched his face into a reasonable facsimile of a smile and handed me a pamphlet as if he were sprinkling delousingContinue reading “Let them drink gin”