I answered the phone, it was dad. ‘Poni, your mother’s been summoned to tribal court. These people...Do they know MaRhadebe?!’ Mother took the phone and with the quietest voice declared ‘I am going and I will speak for myself’. Women were represented by male relatives. 1/
Me: Let’s talk about this. You don’t have to go. Tell them to piss off. Ma: Watch your language. I know I don’t have to go. But I am going. Do you know they delivered the notice at 6am. Ngenjixukuxa. It’s decided, I will go. 2/
My parents and their friends went to tribal. On arrival, a minor chief blocked parking and took his time, receiving salutations. It was a passive aggressive move, to intimidate ma before court started. After they ignored her, she parked the behind the chief, blocking him in. 3/
When the hearing finally started, they announced the court hearing for Mrs Gasa. And asked, who is representing her, looking at dad. My mother responded ‘You summoned me. You didn’t summon my representative. I am here. I represent myself.’ And proceeded to take the ‘stand’. 4/
Mother didn’t wear head coverings/doek/iqhiya. That day she wore it to show respect but also to make sure they didn’t use that to throw her out. She also wore a shawl to hlonipha. Mother loved shawls. We could decipher her mood by how she wore a shawl. 5/
She wrapped her shawl over her shoulders, it didn’t hang...and went right up in front of the senior chief. Father would tell us afterwards. When ma stood in front of those men, in front of those bullies, they ignored her. They talked about her as if she wasn’t there. 6/
She was silent, watching for a while. And then she raised her hand. They continued talking amongst themselves about her. Ma, called the chief by his formal address. Silence. She told them she was there, responding to summons. She was amazed by the disrespect of the court. 7/
The chief told my father to represent his wife. My mother responded, ‘My husband is here to support me. He is not my mouth and he is not my brains...’ Silence and then a buzz, men discussing mother’s disrespect. 8/
Mother began to speak and addressed the Court. She told them she had other business to attend to. When they made up their minds, they knew where to find her. And according to dad ‘she threw her shawl over one shoulder, hanging and walked out. 9/
Since we were small, we knew dad was very proud of ma. But I don’t think I’d ever heard him prouder. She was not called back to the tribal court. We never knew what she was charged with. We also didn’t know the meanings of how ma wore her shawls. Only dad knew that language.
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Pops had a cream linen suit. You know,the kind used by Europeans visiting Africa. Mom hated it, said it was loud. So, dad said he’d pack it away to be buried in. Mom was like ‘good, you’ll be covered in shroud, we won’t see it’. 1/
He died 3 days after admission. My sister found his freshly laundered suit and the rest of his outfit, right down to socks, polished shoes, matching tie and ‘pocket square’ tucked in the breast pocket of his jacket. 2/
So, in ‘cream colonial suit’ he was buried. My parents had very different ideas about burial. About death, they were both direct and matter of fact. My mother was buried in Pyjamas. Pops was dressed in his finest. 3/
When I was young, 10-13, Dad wasn’t overtly religious. He was a ‘measured’ Anglican. But he always read his bible. When I declared myself an atheist at 13 and challenged him to ‘convince me’, Pops, quoted that bible. One weekend, debate (argument) went on until early hours...
He didn’t do well without ‘5 hours’. I did fine. So, 1am he’d ask for a break. 6 am, the argument resumed...In the end, he admitted ‘defeat’. Saying he couldn’t prove God’s existence. But he believed because for him, it’s about faith. Nonsense! Said 13 year old me.
When I was 18, police vans and TDF tanks drove to my village looking for me. I was arrested at home, in front my parents and cousins. When Dad tried to intervene, a soldier pushed him, in his own living room! Mr. G pushed back...at 18, I stepped in and made the decision to go...
For those of us who are alarmed and angry at the murder of #FikileNtshangase, we must remember that this is but a glimpse of corrosive conflict in rural communities, especially for those who demand accountability from traditional leaders, political leaders and mining interests.
In some communities, people’s homes have been severely compromised, with huge cracks on the walls, weakened foundations because of aggressive practices by mining companies emboldened by traditional leaders and in some cases, local and national politicians.
The murders of #FikileNtshangase and #Bazooka occurred in communities where people are fighting for environment justice from the state & mining interests. We must ask the state about its role in these communities. We must demand #JusticeForFikile and justice for all communities.
Working on something touching on my life as a teenage activist in the former Transkei. The story is dark, because it’s about the power of the ‘T’kei Republic’ and torture of a young woman. After all these years, I am able to look into the girl I was and the woman I am...THREAD
Working on this takes me to workplace cultures and my refusal to abide. Everywhere I’ve worked, I’ve introduced change of workplace culture, even at CGE (which caused most of the problems). This is not because I have an agenda but really because I come ‘as I am’.
When I worked in Nigeria for @IDEA_Africa, they and Nigerians allowed me space to develop the programme as I (and Nigerians) saw fit. It paid off for I-IDEA and Nigeria. The CGE was the first formal employment I had after I-IDEA in Nigeria. If that country taught me anything...
It’s 1993. Mlangeni is Head of Transport, ANC HQ. I go to ‘transport’ to book a car. There’s a long & noisy queue of people, mainly drivers,summoned by Mlangeni. He’s on a warpath, checking every requisition, mileage,fuel slips & god knows what else.
Someone is in the office arguing with Mlangeni.
Mlangeni: What did you do with the extra 40 pounds?
Driver: It’s 1993, Cde Mlangeni, we don’t use pounds anymore. Anyway, I used that extra money to put fuel.
Mlangeni: Receipt? Why didn’t you use the card? You’re gallavanting!
The driver says card machine wasn’t working.
Mlangeni: You are not getting money until you bring back that 40 pounds.
Driver: I’m supposed to go to...(before he can finish, Mlangeni kicks him out of his office).
1. I don’t know if you are serious when you say you don’t know how this tweet feeds into rape culture. I’ll explain it anyway and I’ll be as plain as possible. So, here’s a thread @vngalwana.
2. Instead of challenging her work, he writes ‘Pauli must get ten boyfriends’, his very premise is to deploy the trope of a sexually frustrated woman, who needs a ‘dick cure’ from 10 men. @vngalwana
3. What is it about Pauli’s work that brings conversation about sex? Nothing. So, the tweet is not about the substance of her work, it’s about a woman who is ‘mad and angry’ because she has not been laid or not laid enough’. That is the language of rape culture. @vngalwana