Monthly Archives: March 2015


Helloweeni Peeps!

Game.  A little four letter word that means a lot and has lots of meanings.  Game means: 1, A form of play or sport.  2, A period of play ending in a final result.  3, Wild mammals or birds hunted for food.  4, Eager and willing…  Those are the dictionary meanings of the word “game”.  But the trickery-filled predator-like species that we men are (& that’s not a compliment), we combine all these four meanings as one, to create our own meaning of “game”, and then give props to the best ladies-man, telling him “he got game.” He got game coz to him the ladies were a form of play or sport, where he enjoyed his period of play that ended in a final result.  The ladies were eager and willing but not realising that they were wild mammals hunted for “food”.  That’s the game.  This guy is called a player.  And I wanted to be him.  How pathetic…  I know!


I’ve deviated from the teachings  I grew up with on what love is and how to love.  I’ve transformed my way of thinking so much so that I’ve become a believer in the non-existence of love.  I don’t believe there is such a thing as love; I believe in tolerating someone enough to put up with their nonsense, their presence and their show of affection.  I mean love is forever, right?  Then how come almost all relationships between two people in love don’t last forever?  I believe they just stop tolerating one another.  I have also been hiding the love and affection I’ve been feeling for another and even had the audacity to tell her that “I tolerate her.”  Not realizing that’s the biggest insult I could give to such a beautiful soul she truly is.  so beautiful that I’ve never seen a day pass without that illuminating smile planted on her visage.  A day hardly passes without her infectious laughter echoing in my ears as she laughs at my “not-so-funny” jokes, out of politeness.  Now all that is fading as I’m slowly driving her away from me.

(I will not name the lady I’m talking about.)

Telling someone you like or love them is fairly simple when playing the game.  But it gets difficult finding the right words when it truly comes from the heart.  When I finally ejected these dumb ideas about love from my head and admitted to her that I as in love with her, my words came with unnecessary excess baggage – biggest mistake of my life.  She’s such a friendly soul that she befriended this guy I know and shared a tight friendship.  So tight that my jealousy discouraged me from loving her anymore than I already did; my jealousy even assisted my mind in making assumptions that she was in love with this guy.  Like an asshole I began treating her like she didn’t exist, avoiding her like the plague.  Seeing hat this was doing to her, I pretended not to give a sh*t.  Until she finally had enough and asked why was I ignoring her.  There was nowhere to run; I had to answer – honestly and truthfully.


Like a true coward I told her about my feelings via facebook.  I told her of the lie I’ve been living the past few weeks as I’ve been trying to avoid the one one person whose presence to me is as valuable as gold.  I told her I was in love with her, and I was avoiding her because I was afraid my love was one-sided and she shared the same feelings for someone else.  My biggest fear was (& still is) being rejected by she who matters most.  I told her I’m gonna have to learn to “unlove” her in the romantic sense and only like her as a friend.  Before she could give me any sort of reply, I declared there was nothing further to discuss…  How did I turn into this guy?

I’ve come to confuse myself.  Am I plying the  game?  Coz surely my mistreats and back-handed insults can’t be my show of affection and love to her.  I tried taking her as a form of play or sport, where my period of play ended in a terrible final result.  She was eager and willing, but I turned out to be the wild mammal hunted for food.  Now I think I’ve lost her.  And the part that hurts the most is that I’m not even heartbroken, coz with the way I’ve been treating her, I realise that I never had a heart to begin with…

‘Till Next Time Peeps, STAY GOODEST!

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Posted by on March 31, 2015 in Uncategorized


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Helloweeni Peeps!

I’ve gathered and realised that the best fun years of your life are between the ages of 18 and 25; it’s even better if you’re at varsity.  This is the time we’re most likely to make a stupid mistake that will forever shape our lives.  But come on, let’s face it, you haven’t lived or had fun until you say: “Sh*t, that’s the point I really ruined my life.”  I’m not saying varsity is where you ruin your life, I actually mean the opposite – It’s where you discover your true self.  You do things you never thought you had the balls to do.  But most importantly, it’s where you meet people you down the line cannot imagine your life without them.  Friends who are borderline-family…



My Saturday got off to the slowest start ever… Wait, let me rephrase that.  My Saturday didn’t get to any start at all.  I tried waking up at about 9:18 am, only to find out there was some load shedding (electric blackout) at my res.  So I decided to get back in bed and stayed there the whole morning.  My phone rang at about 12:48. with me still in bed (my mom will kill me after reading this). I picked up the phone and heard a sweet angelic voice asking: “Are you doing anything today?”  And I’m like: “God. is that you?”  She laughs and says: “No it’s me. S’phosethu and I was wondering if you’re doing anything today. Coz we wanna invite you to a poetry session in Langa that starts at about 14:00.”  So what do I choose? Being bored at a powerless res all day or accepting an invite from a fine-ass girl?  It was the easiest decision of my life.

A few minutes before 14:00 a car came to fetch me, driven by another classmate of mine by the name of Somi (follow her blog:, with S’phosethu also in the vehicle.  We drove off making our way to Langa township with the only thing helping us survive the annoying traffic being good hip hop pumping through the speakers.  Only to arrive at an empty venue.  We were met by my nigga Lukho, who gave us the news that the poetry shindig would only be starting at about 16:00, so we were two hours early.  But no biggie, Lukho invited us to his place and had some lunch and then the ladies drove off to have some girl talk with the guys staying behind to discuss our favourite subject: “girls.”  They came back at 16:00 and we went to Guga S’thebe, the venue just as the poetry was starting.


The Artistic Venue


The Hot Host

For about the first ten minutes of the Poetry Session, the guys were all mesmerized by the ridiculously hot host of the proceedings (Khanyisile Mbongwa).  Mhmm… Ok, moving along…  It all got off to a great foot as young hip hop cats spit fire on the mic.  But the first great performance was made by this unbelievably charismatic kid. DSC_0436  He made the house beg for more.  There were other great performances, like the incredibly agile krump dancer, the female Zulu poet, and the house duo that brought the house to their feet – dancing.  But for me the moment of the day came when we experienced some technical difficulties and some old guy by the name of Tat’uMonwabisi took to the stage to some resounding laughter.  ‘Old man about to embarrass himself”, people thought (some said aloud).  Only for everyone’s jaw to be on the floor as Tat’uMonwabisi recited a short verse from his amazing poem called: “Sun rays pierce through my window pane.”  The flabbergasted could do nothing but show respect to the grown gentleman.




The Zulu Poet… She was awesome!


The Krump Dancer


The Final Performance!

The final performance was also superb.  I wish I could sing like the guy with the guitar… Nigga sounded like Frank Ocean, I swear!


Me and the Beautiful S’phosethu…


My incredible Camera-woman, Somi (


Lukho Witbooi


Lukho (middle) also invited his niggas when we hit Long Street.

But the day wasn’t done, later we decided to go paint Long Street red. We called a few classmates and Lukho a few friends and had a ball ’till about 02:00 am… Hella Nice!


My weekend became a blessed one as I also got invited to Khayelitsha Township, to a church service.  I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t been to church in a long while.  Dressed all formal, we took about two taxis to get to Site C. Only to be welcomed by thick smoke and the smell of burning tyres – there was a protest march in progress.  Apparently Site C residents were tired of dwelling in shacks and were demanding houses.  They burnt the hall (Mew Way Hall) and a Golden arrow bus.


The Burning Bus…

Photo0262   Photo0261

All this happened a few meters away from a fire station.  But there was no police or fire truck on the scene…  But anyway, we took one last taxi and got to church.  We were welcomed with open arms, coz apparently we were expected.  Anele, The guy I was with, is an active member of this church and had told the Pastor that he’s bringing a couple of friends for service this week.  And, something that was news to me, Anele is a gospel musician and has an album out (will update you about it soon) and was asked to perform two praise songs before the Pastor gives us the word of the day.  I don’t know if this is appropriate to say about church, but the brother killed it!


That’s him holding the blue mic… (excuse the picture quality)

The word of the day came from the Book of Acts, chapter 13.  Explaining to us who the holy ghost is… Great service indeed.

You never appreciate how much love you’re surrounded by, until you’ve lost it’s presence.  This past weekend I thought myself to appreciate the value people I associate with bring into my life.  Remember my previous post: “I’m Seriously Fed Up with Cape Town”?  Pretend I never wrote that sh*t, coz I’m havin’ a hella nice time right now!

‘Till Next Time Peeps, STAY GOODEST!

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Posted by on March 19, 2015 in Uncategorized



Helloweeni Peeps!

The loud laughter of uMakazi (my Aunt); uMama screaming at me for leaving dirty dishes on the sink; my sister, Khanyi’s never-ending words of encouragement; my big brother’s never-ending hustle for a better life and my seven year-old nephew, Abenathi’s hilarious stories about his friends.  I even miss 3 year-old Amyoli’s gorgeous face (she’s sort of an adopted member of our family).  I miss these things from these unique people and most importantly I miss these people.  Even four years after his passing, I still miss the football conversations I had with my dad.


First year syndrome is what varsity students call it (Being home-sick while at varsity).  But i don’t believe I have it.  I’ve been a first year student before.  I’ve met awesome human beings that I shared everlasting memories with; people I still have relations with.  Is it the people I’ve met here?  Or is it me?

I think it’s a combination of both.  I’m not sure whether by intention or not, I don’t think the Yolanda I presented to them from the word go was the true Yolanda.  Now since I’ve met them their expectations of how I’ll be like remains constant., and now I’m stuck having to keep up appearances everyday.  Drowning in a persona and character that never existed before 2015.  Was it to fit in?  Was it for acceptance?  Or was it for the gaining of “someone’s” attention?  Either way, I’m fed up with where my life is right now.

I’ve been depressed since Sunday, after having a ball the night before.  Since then, the bible has been my only preffered solace and friend.  It seems to be the only connection I have to home.  That common ground my family shared with a passion.  The value instilled in us from infancy.  I miss looking at someone and hearing a voice within me saying: “I truly love you. And I cannot imagine life without you.”

Since being here I haven’t spent a single day with someone who enjoyed my company; they just enjoy my humour… or lack there of.  ever chased after someone chasing someone else?  Well I am.  Or I should say, I was.  And now I’ve just realised I’ve been somewhat of a “consolation prize” for something (someone) they can’t get full attention of.

I don’t regret meeting the people I’ve met here.  I just regret the manner in which they know me in – the persona they think is Yolanda.

I can almost smell that pleasant aroma of my mom’s home-made bread. God knows I miss home.  Coz here, I do not belong!

‘Till Next Time Peeps, STAY GOODEST!

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Posted by on March 4, 2015 in Uncategorized