“time goes by so slowly” ~Madonna

Due to many circumstances, one being covid restrictions in China, I haven’t been able to attend any live performances. Let’s all take a moment of silence and sadness for me.

I appreciate the moment

Live performance/Theatre is peaceful. It’ really is a place were you tend to forget reality and be transported into that moment. This ofcourse dawned to be today when I watching a student talent show. I found myself absorbed in the moment, I found myself reminiscing about my days in theatre whether during rehearsals or performance.

I miss that space

In theatre time moves differently in both literal and figurative terms. You are taken in a different world, into the moment or lives of people you are watching, and suddenly reality falls at the back of your mind. Days and months can pass in theatre yet it’s just minutes on your clock, but for that moment, if you are absorbed, you transport yourself to that time, and suddenly you forget the world outside.

The theatre itself is warm, the lights are bright or it’s dark depending on what the work is about. However these effects play with the mind, either making you believe it’s day/night.

How it can it not be therapeutic, it’s a form of meditation for real.

If you come across live theatre performance, even if you’re not a fan, go in there, agree with yourself to get lost in whatever world is being presented to you. Agree that your eyes will believe the light that exist, the period being presented. When you agree to all these, answer the question.

Did you not experience tranquillity?

What makes you experience a state of peacefulness?

The Male Spec-actor

Def. : one who looks on or watches |One who pretends, but secretly watches.

Welcome to 2022 on this blog were we still talk intellectual bullshit. Oh I’m kicking the year off with an intense topic. Should men not be involved in solving issues that women face?

You know I am here to collect your perspective so after reading, please leave a comment.

Ideas are started by individuals, and then further perpetuated by those (social masses) who agree with the individual. This is not to say the social mass was not thinking this all along, no, it is to say, someone made a point they agreed with all along, and it’s refreshing and releasing when someone does that. So you form/ join the social league.

So, can you take away an individual thought in a big idea? You can’t really. In huge social movements there exists individuals. We resonate with these individuals.

So, let’s agree.

Yes, there are problems. These problems are someone’s fault, we technically know who’s fault it is, but the aim is not to point fingers, because we know pointing fingers leads to some fingers being pointed back.

How do we solve the problem? This problem of men treating women certain ways that are wrong! How do we solve these socially constructed ideas about women either their looks, intelligent and their worth? I don’t know really, but I know including the people who are part of the problem is definitely a good start. Making statements that “they don’t have knowledge to understand” the problens, that won’t solve it. Instead it’s a fire being built by a group of people, and it’s not warming everyone up to new ideas/thinking.

I understand people who shut Asian/White people down when it comes to conversation about race as we note “they won’t understand the problem” I do it too really, I’m guilty, but being guilty though I don’t shut it down completely. I go back to throw a few jabs again to see if they understand, if they don’t I get off the ring and maybe wait I don’t know until when.

I have been a witness of so many ill events/actions caused by men unto women yet it doesn’t give me enough knowledge because I am not in the body, I am viewing it from the other side and that makes it complicated.

I can never be women, it’s hard to even imagine being one. I am guilty that even when I imagine being one, I childishly think of having breasts.

Everyone needs lecturing, of course men need to stop being spec-actors of the multiple issues occurring; Women on the other have to know they can’t come into that battle alone, without some “men” on their sides. Yes, but who are these “men”

My problem is I don’t know where I stand, I am a man, I am probably guilty of many inappropriate acts towards women, some aware of, others not, I just need to be put in a circle of men that need to be educated.

So ultimately here are some questions.

  1. Can men, us be trusted to listen without reaction?
  2. Are we dumb that we don’t understand women’s problems? Like are we thinking they don’t exist?
  3. When the fuck are we going to fix “Black/Coloured people” issues? Why is the race issue always being pushed backwards
  4. I’ve said too much

Remember leave your intellectual bullshit, I want to here your thoughts. A link that was shared to me. It was interesting to listen to


So often we put ourselves in positions were we want people to know that we did something or we feel a certain way about something, to in a certain way prove ourselves to “them”

I find myself in a weird/strange position of shouldn’t it be enough that I know were I stand? Aren’t I enough to self to know that my position is here, that I don’t need to defend it because I know it?!

There are very much places designed for you to defend yourself, like court. In court you have to no matter what defend or prove your innocence, even if you know 100% that you didn’t do something but by the standards that someone said you did it, places you in a difficult position of defending yourself.

This is a very different situation if someone says you are racist/homophobic/sexist etc. If someone blames you for being any of these things and you know that you aren’t, what reason do you have to prove yourself to them that you are telling the truth?

I don’t think there is really; there are things we don’t need to prove because proving them makes them not real, it makes you look as if you are justifying your own truth.

I am not racist because I have black friends! Having black friends doesn’t make you not racist, lack of respect/empathy, belittling black people makes you one, and you can really still be one in that position of having black friends, that’s just an example.

The pictures of food we take & post showing we are eating healthy! Who are we taking them for? You already know you’re eating healthy, for you and your body that is prove enough that you are doing what you tended to do, informing others about it isn’t necessary a need.

A part of the reason I am thinking about this is that I’ve been walking quite a lot lately, at times I’d forget to wear my watch which usually calculates the steps I take. It rattles me a bit to not have the steps counted, but then I started thinking, wait, who am I doing it for, am I walking to calculate steps so others can see or what?! I mean I know I walked a lot, shouldn’t that be efficient? Who needs to see that I walked so much today and why?

Proving or disproving certain things isn’t necessarily, but we are trapped in this reality of if people know were I stand, I can be liked more or can be relevant or I will be acknowledged.

It’s sad we live in this reality, even I. I dance and I take videos of me dancing naturally because I want others to see that I dance and made something beautiful or interesting.

It’s the world we live in, I think we need to re-evaluate certain things, try to understand what really is significant in the world we live in

In essence it comes down to a few things, one being I understand how the world is structured now. The world is built in a way that fame or entertainment can happen at any time, that a simple video or image that you took can become an instant hit. That’s the type of world we are in.

However the other part takes me back to something that comedian Dave Chappelle does which is he take people’s phones away during live performances; for some I am sure it’s like taking them to rehab, taking away an addiction they have, but I think that’s precisely the aim.

People can’t seem to live in the moment anymore, to be satisfied with experiencing things in that moment and be fulfilled with the idea that it’s all in your head/heart, you didn’t capture it with any device.

It’s totally okay for your film recording to be your brain, yeah sure likely no one will believe you, that you met who you said you met, but you know it happened, that should be proof enough.

We are stuck in a forever changing world, a complicated world that is asking us to think too much, to forget human feelings and emotions, making us react to each other in a delayed manner because we are so busy caught up on being relevant.

It’s a scary world out there people, but it’s still a fun world.

What is your take, talk to me, I am all ears

Untold story of Nonkululeko (Freedom)

Freedom def: the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action. State of being free

Nonkululeko which loosely translates to Freedom is one of my successful drama works that I wrote and co-directed; When work is completed people often only see that, but never know the layers that built the work.

Let me share.

I guess for a long while I had been fed up about the education system or rather ideas brought about by education, I had just completed my thesis which took a long struggle but finished; I love school and knowledge but damn education sells unfruitful hope most times.

I was angry, but I’m an introvert at best, I can’t express my anger outward, I am in my element through art.

Then came two students of mine, there was a competition, a theatre work was needed

“Jigga can you help us”

Jigga is one of many names I have; I might be an introvert but I am a lunatic in my own manner. A blessing in disguise I said, we had 3 days to make the work.

What if Freedom was physical? That you can see it or touch it, what would it look like? What is freedom? I am not in the slightest a political person, politics frustrates me at best, in South Africa, it makes me mad, but on one hand I have a logical understanding, so I was trapped in between, people’s thoughts and my own thoughts.

People want freedom, but what does it look like? What does it mean to be free?

As writer you sometimes create from what you know, what you feel, what you’ve experienced. I am no different, I create from what resonates with me, it can’t be momentarily, it has to be something I want to unpack and understand.

And my deep loath for educational ideas was at its peak.

So, I spent what I can describe as sleepless night constructing, finally created these three generation black characters, who go out to rob the South African Reserve, not for cash, but for FREEDOM, they believe Freedom is being preserved there… hidden from the people.

What happens next is but a journey of these three characters learning that they were able to get “everything” from the reserve except the one thing they were looking for, FREEDOM!

Neither character could identify what is freedom, here was all the money in the country but it didn’t make them complete.

I don’t know!!

I am an academic, I am a creative artist first but an academic I am, however as academic I may be, education, perhaps through out the world still needs investigating or re_adjustment.

People have so much worth, but we are put in boxes that we need to be “educated” in order to be something, bullshit I say, but I’m an academic what I am saying sounds bias.

The system is crooked, look at me speaking like a conspiracy theorists[Lol]

I don’t have a solution, my undying solution is that people need access to knowledge, just knowledge, a lot of it, because we end you getting politicians selling people the idea of freedom without necessarily knowing what that really is; but who am I, just a lunatic with many names.

Nonkululeko has been performed various times across KZN, in 2020 I gave the script to a young man from DUT who I heard did justice to it.

First performers: Mncedisi Zulu, Kwanele Gwala and Xolani Malinga.

Co_director: Simphiwe Fiddy Ngcobo

Greek Goddess: Oh! Mother! Oh Mother!

Possibly the longest post I’ve written… breathe

I shake my head in awe when I see how my mother has changed over the years; well let me clarify that statement, I shake my head in awe seeing how my mother has become “soft” over the years, especially concerning grandchildren; All the stories of ass whooping I used to get sound like Big foot stories to my nieces/nephews.

Get your coffee/tea/wine/whiskey or whatever hits your fancy, for a couple of minutes I want to take you on a journey, focusing on my mother as both the protagonist/villain…

For most of us, our mothers have been our heroes without capes for a long time, the unsung heroes if I may say, my own mother makes that list too; Although before delving deep I to this writing with honestly I can acknowledge that she has had her flaws most which is quite unforgivable really; my mom once whooped my ass when I had a broken arm ‘asking me why I broke it’ good times, but she is human after all.

In the stories I have written my mother has been a hidden figure in most personalities that drive my character either as their weakness or strength, today, in this writing, I thought I’d openly write about my mother, if not about mothers in general.

If there was ever a woman who exhibited male traits in her it was my mother, if I can use strong language “That bitch was cold, Ice cold” in her younger days. I once saw my mom beat up a guy twice her size in town for stealing a pack of her cigarettes. She took a phone battery, chased him down and did him bad… never steal a wo/man’s mean to get a meal, in this sense a woman’s means. (Chappelle)

In years I’ve seen her fight off a lot of a men, that is both literal and figurative, she of course didn’t win all the battles but she fought none the less.

The other day I threw her by asking her if she has ever been in love with the men she has been with, like really in love? She told me it’s complicated, she gave my own biological father as an example on how she had loved him so much as her first love but how she was young and he never felt the same way in a sense. She laid a detailed rollercoaster of how most of her relationships were, and before I even had a chance to do it, she admitted her guilts as well, that she did cheat one/two times, which I clearly remember cause I was covering for her ass, and ‘I was a child’

Anyway, the change my mom has gone through as a person is absolutely astonishing if not surprising; well listen I am not in anyway saying she doesn’t have her old traits but the amount is some compared to the past.

Her tone of voice has changed in how she speaks, I clearly understand that I am now a grow that we should respect each other as adults, her tone for my siblings has dired down as well… her fire still burns when talking to my nephews and niece but it’s always apologetic and kind.

I remember when my mom would chase my little brother on her morning gown, come back dragging him like a sack of potatoes because he challenged her. It was the worst mistake her made… I watched this idiot challenge mom early in the morning, I should my head. I don’t remember what the deal was, but I remember my brother standing up hill to our house saying he won’t do what mom asked? and confidently saying she can’t catch him either. I had a little prayer for my little brother that day and I don’t pray!

Couple minutes later after mom gave him a head start, she came back dragging him and he was crying like a pig.

Although I have honestly shaped myself to be what I am and who I am today, I can confidently state that mother, my mother has had an impact in how I crafted that design of myself.

Some most of my life decision were influenced by my mother or rather seeing her reaction and me reacting to the situation we were in.

I made a decision I don’t want to be a bad dad or bad partner because I saw how mom’s partners were like, not all were bad really, just circumstances made things bad, as mentioned mom too wasn’t an angel

I made a decision not to smoke because my mom really beat the shit out of me when she found out we were stealing her teabags to make cigarettes, I thought if I got such a beating for teabags, what beating would I get for the real thing, and of course I really didn’t like cigarettes.

With drinking, the day our uncle made us drink on Christmas Eve and the look in my mothers eyes when she saw me naked in the street drunk, and then crying, I knew that moment alcohol wasn’t for me, but of course many other events would drill it in my head that alcohol in my family was never going to work, I don’t think my family handles alcohol very well, it’s in our blood.

Ultimately however it’s the events that happened earlier in my childhood that made me determined; When Drake sings started from bottom now we’re here, it resonates with me, I mean really, as an individual/family we really started from the bottom, not gutter, but bottom and mother never faulted to work through it all.

I remember being woken up in the early morning to lock the door after she goes out to work, to sell her fruits and vegetables in town. I remember how cold it was, I remember how angry she would be when she missed the first taxi that hooted far way, that she’d have to wait another half hour for the next one… all that lost time was money to her. In all that, I remember being dragged into it too, were I had to wake up with her to town. I hated it, I fucking hated it.

I was a kid, had to wake up early morning, that cold would hit so hard, I was crying inside. The most happiest I’d be in those mornings was when we’d buy coffee and amagwinya/baked cakes, ahhh that was the sweet thrill.

Then I’d watch the weekend go by, Sat and Sundays, then it would be school holidays while most kids played sports I was counting change. In times I’d “escape” I had a special trolley mom would give me, so I could sell fruits d vegetables mobile.

Yeah, horrible decision, I found an arcade store, and my word did I spend my time there, one day, one day though, I didn’t realize the time, there were no phones back then, my mom just walked in the arcade, I knew I was dead, I walked out being dragged, no one helped me, actually people tried to stop her, but she’d just say it’s my baby or some nonsense like that and people understood.

I was a naughty kid, you’d think after such an ass whooping I’d stop going to the arcade, but I didn’t, it was my only escape from the world I was trapped in, world of working, studying and working.

When I grew up a little bit, which happened quite quickly, I made another realization which ultimately impacted on the person I am today; most the realization happened while the day has ended when my mom and I would be headed home. I’d look at her sleeping in the taxi, she’d really doze off, the day’s work had taken a toll on her. I realized in those moments that I don’t like this site, the site of defeat, I don’t want me or her doing this for the rest of her life and as a black person you put the idea that education is the key, so I did that too, in that time.

I tucked my head in books, if books weren’t my friend, it was TV or magazines. I didn’t know if I was smart or not but I was going to do something about that; tell you the truth, I wasn’t the smartest person in schools, but I sure damn worked hard, I don’t know what problems others had, perhaps worse than mine but I wanted to be my own hero.

So there it is, my mother directly and indirectly has had an influence in my life more than I could ever imagined, but like I said not all is great even the ones that look great, in a sense my whole childhood was stolen from me, but in exchange I learned valuable lessons and was able to become an individual, I discovered myself. I tell you after everyone realized that I knew who I am, people stopped bothering me, my mom stopped waking me up in the morning to sell fruits and vegetables, it was my little brothers turn…. sucker… but I was determined to do something.

However not everything works out as planned

What Mother stories do you have that you can share?