Gayton, give your money to politics; dial Julius

So you know, or you don't know yet, that Gayton McKenzie used an open letter to parade his swag while dragging Julius Malema through it?

Yes, no kidding. He did so and took a dig at Malema, explaining to him that nationalizing the mines is not as easy as Woodwork.

Anyway, open letters have been around for a while. Do you remember how Gareth Cliff fashioned an open letter, the day he gave the ruling party a dressing down? Do you remember how this heroic act left his ego shooting through the roof, when Gwede Mantashe rewarded him with a “
meeting over coffee (MOC)”?

I am waiting to hear somebody tell me that even Prof. Njabulo Ndebele, or Prince Mashele, for example, got rewarded with coffee for their revolutionary “open letter” gesture. But let’s put this one aside. We are not discussing white supremacy.

There is one particular gesture which really catapulted the advent of open letters to popularity; when Kenny Kunene took the time off his sushi parties to write an open letter to... remember that one? Sadly for him, he didn’t get a MOC. I remember how the people appealed to him in hushed tones to get his SARS affairs in order. I don’t know why Kenny was getting such a bizarre advice. But that is not a problem.

The problem is here...

How did a rich brother like Gayton McKenzie decide to compromise his “time to hustle” by sitting in front of a computer – for what I imagine may have taken two hours – to write an open letter to his own friend, Julius Malema, when his Vodacom airtime was screaming for him to spend it? Between writing a letter and dialling the number of Julius, Gayton opted for an open letter. When did Gayton become such a scrooge?

Is this not the right time - in the spirit of peaceful and less humorous national elections - to ask Gareth Cliff to reverse this "open letter to earn MOC" culture, by writing a closed letter to Dr. Blade Nzimande? My prediction is that Gareth will earn himself a secret bag of R500 000 worth of insults. That is far more worthwhile than a R23.95 cup of moca-choca at Mugg & Bean.

Through this, we hope that Gayton will realise that he can insult his friend, Julius, much quicker if he used the damned smart phone languishing inside his pocket right now! Who knows? He might even get a direct emotionally charged response from Julius, which might culminate into an impromptu shopping spree, for both of them to jointly blow R500 000 in some Louis Vuitton and Gucci shops.

If Gayton is honest when he says that he will never steal again, and that he gives his money to politics, then I am putting it to him that he must stop stealing from Vodacom profits in order to enrich the tabloids. Give your money to politics. Dial the phone number of Julius.

http://drum.co.za/news/open-letter-to-julius-malema/

Going down memory lane through bizarre love songs

Let it be known that some love songs can bring 30-something men like me to tears in an instant. Some of those songs bring back the fond memories about anything.

I want to talk about my two childhood friends.

Earlier today a DJ played the song "unconditional love" by Atlantic Starr. As I was listening, I remembered how Phehello Maloka, Matela Mthwalo and I used to rove around places like Ha-Sethunya, Mangaung, Matoling and Sebokeng. If you are wandering where that could be, think areas surrounding Charles Mopeli Stadium in Qwaqwa.

We used to traverse the place. We would be taking turns listening on the stereo. It belonged to Matela. Somewhere in our pockets and school bags we had cassettes of Tevin Campbell, Joe Thomas and... Do you remember those TDKs? Yes, we had the mix of songs by the likes of Celine Dion, Mariah Carey and Karyn White.

Imagine. Just imagine three teens in their school uniform getting emotional as Karyn White wailed 'I'd rather be alone than being unhappy.' Isn't that bizarre?

We were in Grade 10 or 11. Back then, the urge to meet beautiful girls who could later on get into the habit of deserting their household chores to be with you around the secret corner, to steal a kiss before returning home to re-live the moment, was very high. We had pimples. We fooled around in the maze of adolescence. But we were so woeful during our prowl we often came away with nothing. But songs like “can we talk” by Tevin Campbell gave us hope.

And there was a radio DJ. Thabang Rampooane. RIP. He remains the best radio DJ Lesedi FM has ever had. He was so good that Matela bunked afternoon study and ran home to listen to the show. Matela loved the DJ. He loved the way he cast a spell on the listeners with his choice of music.

One day the DJ died in a freak car crash. We were devastated. We mourned, and we mourned, so much that we tried even bizarre things to cope. We even tried jokes. One day we were sitting in class, stewing in the afternoon's heat, struggling to get on top of the Afrikaans notes we were writing. Seuntjie Sekonyela made a joke about what led to the fatal accident. Most people in class burst out laughing. It was guffaw all around. Matela stood up to sternly reprimand Seuntjie before walking out in a huff. When he returned, it was obvious that Matela had been crying.

Matela always made hard choices. He spontaneously chose Thabang Rampooane over afternoon study, knowing well that he was also choosing corporal punishment from Mr. Mokhoaetsi the next day. He was always at peace with the consequences of his choices, and indiscretions. He took punishment with great humour. He is still the same. What a guy.

Lesedi FM was our staple diet. We learned about the R&B music through shows like ‘Ntetsetse ke o bapalle (call in I will play your chosen song).’ A very excited listener would call in to dedicated a song “take your love and keep it” by Steve Kekana and Coyote to his lover.

Sometime last week I heard the song "united in love" (the Commodores) playing on my phone radio. It is 18 years later. I phoned Matela.
‘Hello,’ he answered the phone. I pulled the mouth-piece closer to the phone radio. I could hear my friend melting the way he used to when he was 16. We glided down memory lane. We laughed at what today seems like a decade of teenage foolishness.

Today things are oddly different. Phehello and I can find common ground on the music of the African Continent. Think Oliver Mtukudzi, and Angelique Kidjo. We dance to the music of Papa Wemba, and we have long agreed that "Bane" by Oliver Ngoma can turn any mzansi wedding celebration on its head.

Matela, on the other hand, still prefers American R&B, and nothing else. I know this because they guy attends a live concert of Anthony Hamilton at the very exact time when I think doing so is the waste of hard-earned money. But you should see how I jump with excitement whenever I learn that Salif Keita will be in town.

So whenever Phehello and I get animated about the music of the Continent, you will see Matela withdrawing, shaking his head as if to say ‘what is wrong with these morons?’ But the memory of the music genre which we have shared, and still love, lives on.

Do not demand your land... we will starve!

I was watching a talk-show last year. I cannot remember which one it was. The debate must have been about Land reform. In the panel were the likes of Lindiwe Mazibuko, Andile Mngxitama, Eusebius McKaiser and the Englishman whose name I cannot remember right now.

Pik Botha was also there. Remember him? He is an old man now. He seemed to have this air of self-assurance about him. Whenever it was his turn to speak, he’d eat into the whole 60 seconds, as if to say ‘these kids over here know nothing.’ I’d look at Andile, Lindiwe and Eusebius. It must have been tricky for them to sit there, poised and ready to debate, while also fighting off the desire to laugh at Oom Pik.

I was on the edge of my seat. Even blinking seemed like a costly exercise. A lot went on during the debate. At some point Andile took a swipe at Lindiwe by calling her a house-nigger. Peeved by this, Lindiwe gave Andile a dressing-down. You know that Lindiwe can blaze through with the Queen’s language without stopping to catch her breath. She is that gifted.

Eusebius, perhaps owing to his talents, his previous debating accolades and the nature of the talk-radio job that he is doing, seemed to vacillate between the opinions. He was agreeing here, casting doubt there and disagreeing over there. The other two “kids” flanking him – Lindiwe and Andile – were belligerent with their views.

That Englishman whose name I said I cannot remember, had been calmly fighting against the idea of land expropriation, and doing okay. But things came to a head when Andile argued that the man was employing the "logic of thieves" to justify the colonial injustice visited upon the Black people - the rightful owners of this land. The man seemed quite rattled after that.

I was reminded of this emotional episode when I read Kevin Mileham (DA MP)'s counter-argument over the ANC's policy proposal titled "Strengthening the Relative Rights of People Working the Land." The logic of thieves is carrying on unabated.

When you really think about the argument put forward by Kevin, you realise that in this country, it would seem, as long as the land is in the hands of the colonial system, therefore it is “constitutionally” in good hands. And nobody will starve. But once it moves into the Black hands, Lord, the constitution is under threat. And oh Lord we are certainly going to starve!

We don’t seem to think this through by saying: Well, I hear that issue about productive land and what have you but, hell, there is so much land in the White people’s hands which is not being used productively right now and, surely, once I have the land, nobody should mind me if I start to walk on the land, or to admire the land, to roll all over the land, to hug the land, to piss on the land or to simply put up the fence on the land, just like everybody else is doing!

http://www.politicsweb.co.za/politicsweb/view/politicsweb/en/page72308?oid=586672&sn=Marketingweb+detail&pid=90389&utm_source=Politicsweb+Daily+Headlines&utm_campaign=a21d0e61f7-DHN_April_7_2014&utm_medium=email&utm_term