2016 Ceases to Exist

Everything comes to an end; so they say! 2016 is ultimately entering the world of history. The leap year is to be buried on Saturday – the 31^st of December. Like any year that has elapsed, it had its own ups and downs. There are moments to be cherished, and moments to be regretted. Nonetheless, the leap year is coming to an end.

Hopefully, the year 2017 will be much better with regard to progress and prosperity. With all the lessons learned in 2016, it goes without a doubt that most people shall propel their lives into great heights. Black people are amazingly resilient. The history of our stalwarts attests to that assertion. We triumph perennially under the trampling feet of the system of white supremacy.

The Amalahle Ashushu blog will have a logo in 2017 - and change the focus on performing arts and poetry – to include opinions on socio-economic and political issues. The blog shall grow from strength to strength with no compromise on truth. It has not been very active for the whole of 2016 – but soldiered on. There will be numerous posts on monthly basis in 2017.

I hope that you have all enjoyed the Christmas; and that you will start 2017 in peace, love and cohesive spirit. I also hope that you have enjoyed the four posts that you have read this year from this blog; and that those posts have stimulated your thoughts and analysis.

If you have any feedback – in the form of criticism, complements, or any remark; or you would like to contribute to the blog, please feel free to contact me at amalahla@gmail.com or +27 72 164 9706. You can follow Amalahle Ashushu on twitter; the account name: @amalahla.

The Amalahle Ashushu blog is also one of the communication arms of EloHIP Poetry Based Art Movement. However, the blog operates independently; it is willing to work with anyone or any group that shares common vision with the blog. Everyone is welcome to contribute.

Kindly visit the EloHIP Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/182286005172053/ 

THE REVIVAL OF UBUNTU IN THE SPIRIT OF STEPHEN BANTU BIKO 2016 EVENT

“Being black is not a matter of pigmentation – being black is a reflection of a mental attitude. Merely by describing yourself as black, you have started on a road towards emancipation; you have committed yourself to fight against all forces that seek to use your blackness as a stamp that marks you out as a subservient being.” – Stephen Bantu Biko.

His words were echoed at EloHIP Revival of Ubuntu at Endaweni Car Wash (opposite Mandela Park and adjacent to Makhaza Wetlands Park) on Sunday – the 11^th of September 2016, in the form of speeches, music and poetry. By merely reading ‘The Definition of Black Consciousness’ in Stephen Bantu Biko’s I write what I like collection of speeches and other writings – for about three times or more times, you will definitely and with conviction be in affirmative with me, in that the definition of black consciousness is metaphysical.

EloHIP Poetry Based Art Movement organises the event on yearly basis in September – the month he was brutally murdered by the apartheid Security Branch in 1977. The event rekindles his spirit; for he championed humanity. The event is slowly shifting into a festival – with fine art and fashion display.

The poets, rappers, singers and a comedian by the name Phumlani Vokovi, who took couple of jabs on the Rastafarians, edutained and entertained the audience. The event was a success.

For more information, please visit: https://www.facebook.com/groups/182286005172053/

Hereunder are the pictures, courtesy of Amalahle Ashushu: 

Town Ship

Township is the phrase referring to the South African underdeveloped urban and rural residential locations, situated near towns and cities. They were created in the late 19^th century to provide residence for African, so called Coloureds and Indian migrant workers; and later for apartheid regime classification non-white people who were forcibly removed in towns.

Townships are mostly surrounded by informal settlements and have poor standard of living. On the larger scale, people are squashed in them to service towns in the form of cheap labour. They are colloquially called locations or lok’shini by Africans, or lokasie in Afrikaans, or kasie from lokasie, or ekasi. Few townships have been developed into wealthy or middle class suburbs after 1994. Others saw little or no development – with people populating them from countryside villages – in search of greener pastures.

I have lived in the township for almost 20 years. I have seen much. I have experienced much. Too much to express with written words. Everyone who has lived in the township have stories to tell. Other stories are too gruesome to tell. I have written poems that I will never share. I once had a chat with a Facebook friend who grew up in Langa Township near Cape Town City. I asked her how it was like, growing up Kwa-Langa. She answered: “There is nothing good ngokhulela elokishini. Was bullied. So much happened kula kasi. But ndifunde izinto ezininzi. I have seen pain, suffering, inferiority. People downgrade themselves, and so much jealousy. La kasi indifundise izinto ezininzi, even though it sucked my self esteem.”

My experiences, in addition to experiences of other folks, about life in the township, permits me to name the township ‘a town ship’; a ship that belongs to town – which ship people to town – to sweat and build wealth for ship owners.

I scribbled a poem about township and I titled it “Town Ship”.

Hereunder it is:

Town Ship

Township is the deep dark dungeon

Where kids duck stray bullets

In streets darkened by pimps and drug merchants

Where poverty delves deep and descends the gift of thought

To dwell deep and dial direct on irrational norms

And drink to drift sorrows

Drenching deep

Sipping, drinking drinks like there is no tomorrow

Racketeering

It’s kung-fu to put food on the table

The table with unstable staple food that taste like sewerage

Cursed is the hearse

That carries the casket

To death camps

Like Hitler frog-marching Jews to gas chambers

Pestilence

Violence

Substance abuse

Depopulating the youth

Youth defaced

Debased

Erased

Self worth decayed

The dark demon of envy breaks families

As it delves deep into the depth of the dungeons of thought

Driven by jealousy

Broke blokes

Who lost hope

Have broke many souls

And broke many homes

Broken, beaten, battered

Dreams shattered

Into shambles by the shackles of the system

Township is the slave ship

Holding multitudes of the readily available cheap labour

It’s a room that breeds and groom

Gangsters, racketeers, pimps and prostitutes

Only the lucky few will glide and rise above the abyss of destitute