About This Blog

Why I'm rewriting this life...

I grew up mostly in a township on the Cape Flats in the Western Cape, South Africa. For all intents and purposes I wasn't supposed to be someone who aspired to much beyond a job and a family.

Between the time I was born and the time I left high school, my country changed. The goalposts shifted, and so did my vision.

But the ability to express doesn't come with a voter's roll registration. Neither does forgiveness or empathy or sympathy or even belonging.

On the morning of June 11, 2010, the morning of the FIFA World Cup launching in South Africa, I walked the streets of my native Cape Town, my insides feeling like jelly. I was so astonished by the atmosphere on the streets (it must have been about 7 in the morning), I wrote a short editorial piece for my publication, which was published by 9:30.

The editor told me that she’d publish it because despite being sentimental (something which our columns most often are not), it was pretty moving. I decided to interpret that as... “Damn, man, you nearly made me cry.” That was the first time I really felt like what I had to say had resonated purely and absolutely with someone from a completely different background as me.

The feeling was reinforced when commenters on the story resoundingly agreed with its sentiment – another phenomenon that never happens on our forums. Again, this was and remains very meaningful for me, considering that the World Cup was trashed unreservedly by most readers of a certain class...

And then, suddenly, I was asked by a very unapologetically forthright young lady why I don't just tell my stories. For myself and for others.

And so it is that I am to connect my own dots through these stories, opinions, experiences...

PS: Thanks, T
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