Activating a Thought Leader In Me

What if we ( Africans) told our own stories, what if the reality of the majority of the people living in this country and continent was told by them, rather than those who are “qualified” to tell those stories. How would those stories be, how would they sound, who would they talk to and why would they be relevant to be told? I have always loved the hearing stories from my father and the older family members, their stories, weather heartbreaking or funny, always felt real, engaging and full of lessons. The old folk tales that would introduce themselves as “intsomi” , they required us agreeing for this “ntosmi” to be told to us. There is a power in African stories, whether they be true or fiction, but the power comes from the voice that tells the story and the people that give it life. South African stories are so diluted with western influences, that the authenticity of these stories is lost.  While you have a few productions and storyteller making efforts to Africanise our...

I hold my breath as he passes by, I’m not sure what he will do. He says hi and I pull my bag closer to myself, what if he takes it and runs or what if he kidnaps me and rape me? A black man walking past me seems more dangerous than a white man next to me. When I pull up near the traffic light, where there is a black man giving out flyers, I roll up my window and shack my head, hard enough that he does not need my voice to know, I won’t help him, he needs to move, without even looking at him, I give him a clear message. While a white beggar hears my voice, with my window in the same low position it was when I was driving.  Violence and crime has been painted with the paint of a black man, it has been given a face, a face we all know and a face that is the face of our brothers and fathers.  The world has taught us one thing about criminals and that is, they are black and male. Maybe it’s just me, I look at my father as my hero, my brother as the coolest guy out there, and...