It’s your Karma, just deal!

So a lot of people have been asking me to write my understanding on karma and what I think it entails, let me add, I do not believe in karma. I do not believe in it, cause I honestly think we the human race live on energy and I think karma is all about energy. What you attract and repel, kinda of energy.

For those that don’t know what karma is, it is Hinduism and Buddhism for the sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences. This to me has a few dimensions to be explored, one is the religious connotations it bares and the unpacking of in what life will this karma catch up with you. And of course, if whether karma only has the effect in catching up with you only when you do bad.

Firstly karma is in its whole being, not for Christians or any other religion other than Hinduism or Buddhism. It has its dogmas in these religions, and no karma has nothing to do with following your bad or evil deeds. It has to do with all your actions, and it has nothing to do with judging you for these wrongdoings but has everything to do with deciding your future fate. Now before I even confuse myself, when you religiously go to gym, your fate is that of a healthy lifestyle, well built body, strength, energy etcetera. But we all know of people that collapsed at the gym or those that couldn’t pass a fitness test. For you my brothers and sisters, it is perhaps important that subtly wishing that karma catches up with a person that has for one reason or the other hurt you is not only futile but also unchristian.

Karma as explained above has nothing to do with a collections of your evil did, so if you going to insist on calling on karma to take its cause on people you better start thinking of calling on karma to take this very same route when someone gives you a lift or any act of random of kindness or planned kindness for the matter. A question that we might want to touch on while here, is that are Christian so bitterly evil that they will borrow another religion’s doctrine and use it for casting uncouth, evil and unchristian wishes on fellow people? To an extend of even embracing its effect even when a person acted in a bona fide manner? Are we that evil a people, that we are too quick to wish all kinds of bad things to people that hurt us, merely or largely.

While we were using the idea of karma wrongly, has it ever occurred to you that the rough patch you might have been going through might be karma catching up with you? Does it mean that when you are been hurt, the person will get karma’s mighty fury or could it be that you are been dealt a blow for your previous wrongs? Or are we so oblivious to our wrongdoings that we think only we are prune to been wrong done at?

I suggest that before we starting calling on karma, we must understand its origins, also use it as a decent person would a pack of salt they borrowed from the neighbour. Use it as humanly right as possible, when you don’t understand how it works return it to its owners and stop over inflating your opinion of your hurt by wishing bad things to those that supposedly hurt you. It is unchristian and funny enough unhinduism and unbuddhism.

By Mafedi Selepe

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What is Pan-Afrikanisim?

This isn’t the new bandwagon ride to hop on, for the cool kids. It in fact is our inherent being as a black Afrikan constituency. In simple terms Pan-Afrikanisim is the togetherness in solidarity of Afrikans, where we aren’t looking at been accepted by other people, but our self search and stumble finding of each and every Afrikan.

The biggest problem I have with other fellow Pan-Afrikanists is that we are trying to steal as opposed to borrowing from other groups that have their own movement that works for their people.

Our Afrikan-ness started off as an anti-colonial and anti-slavery movement, to some other parts of Afrika it even got to a movement against Apartheid.

For Pan-Afrikanist, such as Edward Wilmont Blyden, part of the call for Afrikan unity was to return the Diaspora to Afrika, whereas others, such as Frederick Douglass, called for rights in their adopted countries. I for one am for both. Why? You could ask? We as Afrikans have allowed non-Afrikans to enjoy rights in Afrika and to obviously exercise more rights in their natives lands. Where they already enjoy Edward’s dream of unity.

Eurocentrism is one such a movement that works like a well oiled machine, now we need not copy and paste their ways of doing. As this will only serve to make us perpetuate the submissive ways that we already find ourself in. We can borrow and tweak as and when we should. We already a far behind in conforming to yet another Eurocentric norm as 1st World Countries, but what we need to know is the cradle of humankind is ours, making us the highest form of authoritarians of the planet. So in seeking the humanness and its very fiber we need not look no further.

Our slave ancestors were fighting a different battle, which in its own had to a very large extend Pan-Afrikanism. Stretched to limits of freedom, but inherently the freedom of sons and daughters of Azania enmasse. We the 21st Century generation have our own fights and need to conquer them, we need to navigate and realize that the baton we have wasn’t handed to us by men and women who had it all or at all. But start to see that we have a huge task of running the next mile and make it easier for our future little Afrikan leaders to have it better, maybe not easy but better.

The concept that we are beautiful, intelligent, decent and civilized need to be the back parts of our hands. We need to know that we have all you need to be economically unified and uplifted, politically progressive and socially cohesive to have men and women that can uplift the Azania that Thomas Sankara, Kwame Nkurumah, Bantu Biko and Mangaliso Sobukwe dreamed and hand-crafted with their bare hands in words and actions.

Failure to do so, the blame will squarely be rested on our shoulders

The Rumbles

The wheel of life turns inevitably, always.

We have no means to stop the invariable constant, at all.

It will always move in the direction of destroying, mending and creating.

You can’t align yourself with the fate, but it will find you.

 

Feeling empty is as such as guaranteed as death.

Life is as expected as eternal happiness.

All you can have is never more than what you lost.

Faith, Hope and Believe must resonate with the echoes of your hurts.

 

Staying positive is almost unheard of.

The positivity that one can muster is never without negativity.

Once we lack purpose we build failure.

The irony is that we in fact build something.

 

When our minds are uninspired they are bound to destroy us.

Keep a circle that moves with the inevitable turning of life.

The constant invariable will propel you to greater heights.

An idle man is dangerous to self in all kinds of ways.

 

Where purpose is unknown, abuse is inevitable.

Religion must be a culture, more than anything.

Okay today we touch on a rather sensitive subject, we all know that this is going to get me judged by those in our midst that preach the “thou shall not judge” gospel.

Firstly let me take my side on this topic, guided by my own findings that are obviously not the same for all of us. I have come to a conclusion that religion is cultural and has got little to do with whom and how you pray. If you culturally believe in your strong belief in a supernatural power or powers that control human destiny, you have satisfied your religious threshold.

Firstly what is culture? Culture is an integrated pattern of human knowledge, belief, and behaviour that depends upon the capacity for symbolic thought and social learning.

I have been closely researching on 3 religions, the Muslims, Christianity and Jewish.

Muslim is a disciple of Islam, the Muslims believe in God, the name Muslim in fact means “one who submits to God”. The Muslim people believe in monotheism. Monotheistic is a religion that believes in one God, the Muslim’s believe is based on the Qur’an, which Muslims consider as exactly the same words of God as revealed to prophet Muhammad. Muslims maintain that previous messages and revelations have been partially changed or corrupted over time, but consider the Qur’an to be both unaltered and the final revelation from God. This includes the Bible, as they don’t believe in the Bible. This religion is practised by just over a billion people in the world, they follow what the Qur’an says and this I find is working for them. They are one religion that is not tapped, tamed nor diluted by other religions.

Now Christianity, a word that comes from the ancient Greek word “Christ”, which means the “anointed one”. It is also a monotheistic religion based on the life and teachings of Jesus. Christians venerate him as God the Son and believe that he rose from the dead after being crucified. Whether this means that Christians believe in the son of who Muslims believes in is still unturned. These people state that Jesus suffered, died, was buried, and was resurrected from the dead to open heaven to those who believe in him and trust him for the remission of their sins, they further maintain that Jesus bodily ascended into heaven where he rules and reigns with God the Father. Most Christians teach that Jesus will return to judge all humans, living and dead, and grant eternal life to his followers. This must have a lot to do with a pattern of doing things, making it cultural. This however is one religion that is scattered and has a lot of variations. Making it the most dynamic and unstable cult.

Last but not least, in no particular order. The Jewish religion is composed of a nation and ethnoreligious group originating in the Israelites or Hebrews of the ancient Near East. The Jewish ethnicity, nationality, and religion are strongly interrelated, as Judaism is the traditional faith of the Jewish nation. Essentially Jews are an ethnic group of people whose members are also unified by a common religious background. These groups of people are strongly commixed and the religion in culturally influenced.

Now you tell me why do you think your God is better than the other ethnic group’s God?

I’m outta here.

Karma is a bitch, she knocked on my door on the 25th Jan 2008

It took exactly 4 years and 6 days for me to summon so much courage to speak about a torment that dawned into my life of living large, with all kinds of relativity.

I find it very vegetating and unfair on my part to have to live such a monotonous life, for 4 agonizing years. So called friends, dissected family members, colleagues and the aberrant lay man asking the same question. Mafedi/Bigboy kgane go dirigile eng? (Mafedi/Bigboy what happened?).

You see there was a part of my life where I was living my life without a care to be given, whatsoever. This part of my life we can call the Achilles heel, you see we call it that as this was the time where I was at my weakest, despite my alter ego telling me that I was in fact on top of the world. With just about everyone down there, the funniest thing about this and to my credit is that despite my been so remote to all things humane, I had a truck full of friends. This as you would imagine, inflate my sense of self importance to some exaggeration.

We all have that part of ours that’s just full of callous actions, even you do have it. It’s how you control it that makes a difference and gives you a better stand over life.

On the 25th of January 2008, I met a fatal accident. I almost lost my life, people even pronounced me dead. People I know and those that I didn’t even know. Was admitted at a hospital called Union Hospital in the Eastern side of Johannesburg called Alberton. Got into a coma for almost 9-10 days, with my right leg been literally pulled out of my intestines using what is called a traction, a mechanism that was drilled into my thigh, using weights to pull out the leg. Had a raptured bladder, resulting into a laparotomy operation, that still left a boasting scar on my abdominal. My mom only got to know about all of this after 3 days of my hospitalization, no one could summon the courage to tell her that her Biggy was fighting for his soul with the ancestors. The nice thing about a coma is you loose all touch with the world and anything that doesn’t add any value to your life and you loose weight.

As an Information Techonology professional, I too found myself learning at a fast pace about the human anatomy. One day as I was on my bed, ridden and dependent. My then doctor, Dr Jan Venter, made an unusual visit to my private room with all kinds of Sunday newspapers. This is of course how I then got to know that it was a Sunday, having been slipping in and out of mild comas loosing track of the outside world. He had came to tell me that I will have to confine into a wheelchair for the rest if my life. This is and was the time that I lost a lot of my then friends, I was more dependent you see and mostly a nuisance at large.

I spent 11-12 months on a wheelchair, I at this time started questioning God’s existence and subsequently that of Jesus. Having forgotten who had made and turned me into a success of a young man. You see the questioning of God came naturally, the Dr had also told me it would take a miracle for me to bare weight on my lower body, thus meaning I won’t be able to ever walk on my own again.

The saddest thing is that I had to deal with question from people that I thought were friends about what was happening to me, needless to say that I had expected them to tell me what had happened. I did expect a lot from people. A close friend asked me if I would have done differently if it was someone on the receiving end, I squarely said NO, I know that’s cause I didn’t know better. I have since almost went back to doing the same mistake of fostering friends, even though I know I don’t care about them. This I found is the underlying reasons I lost a lot of them, as they could careless. I just liberated myself off another friendship that almost enslaved me, sad but it had to be done.

My road to recovery is probably one of the most inspiring things to me, I saw myself come alive without even having milestones nor pragmatic ways of doing it. I got off the wheelchair, something that took my doctor and physiotherapist by surprise. I then used a walker for 7 months, then two crushes for a while. Now I use one crush on the righten hand to balance, as I had injured what’s called a lumbar plexus, a coil of nerves that provides the lower body with senses that ranges from touch, pain, balance and so on. Knowing very well that some people don’t necessarily care about all of this, for those that do care, you will be glad to know that my lumbar plexus is getting better by the day, hence the use of one walking aid.

Karma had got my address, the bitch never forgot the address. She came, knocked at my doorstep and ran the whole house.

The highlight of the aftermath of all these atrocities is the man I have become, one thats
imperfectly perfect. You will equally be glad to know that I am on my road to recovery and have found love inside of me. My head is always upright, well most of the times. I have also found a woman that loves me for who I am. My relationship with my little sister has went from nonexistence, to been the epitome of a bigger brother.

My career has remained stagnant and I know why, I am however working on this. The truth of the matter is that I am one happy young man and you should embrace that in me as family and friends.

Next time someone asks you about me, tell them I am doing fine. Probably better than them.

Decipher and decode the encoded.

It has become rather obvious that the recent poster that has been thoroughly depicted by the students’ wing of the Democratic Alliance (DA) viz, Democratic Alliance Student Organization (DASO) not only depicted a thousands meanings as the adage goes about how a picture can have a lot of meanings. But it also sent a lot of tempers flares amongst the clearly distinct bourgeois, peasant and proletariat lines of inequalities that is our so called rainbow nation.

With the sentiments of DASO probably been of Nobel intentions, we can’t see past the misconception from incorrect reasoning that is the poster. To me as I sat and disgruntled the poster and used the same method that I was taught at the bourgeois school, I safely came to the conclusion that DASO was trying to tell us that we can cohabit only if we are prepared to say the white man is superior than the black, thus perpetuating but carefully tweaking the architect of Hendrick Verwoerd of a neighborly society that knows and embraces its indifferences to allow the half baked rainbow nation that was only but a dream for the Mandelas, the Sisulus and the heroes and heroines et al.

Here is my deciphering, encoding of the decoded. The caricature that was conjured overnight said and stood striped and bare to me as a picture that depicts two races, which I think was the aim. It however goes on and tries to show the intimacy between the two, I suppose this is to perhaps depict an interracial relationship. Where the failing starts dawning, as it epitomized the clear lines that suggested how DASO and it’s mother body DA represent. A South Africa were we all live in with a master to be servered, you can try and search for the poster and tell try to thoroughly have a look and tell me if you don’t see how the black female on the poster is firstly showing how she depends and looks up to the master, with the master of course looking down on her. Not only is this depicting that but it also shows who is to be servered and who does the serving.

It also metaphorically when put asunder perpetuates a South Africa that always believed a black person is to be screwed to the gallows, the idiocy that came with it was that I understand it was not designed by the white men in the student wing. But people of colour, the only two reasons that can better explain how the poster got to be approved is either it was a slothful day on their part or the master found it depicts what they would rather represents as they to some sorely know that a nation of interracial screwing is inevitable.

I wouldn’t dare label the poster callous, but I know for a fact I felt and heaved a sigh with chagrin as I saw this instrument that went to clearly show how far we have gone as a nation that is not ready to embrace change or rather how we haven’t went anywhere in the contrary. But the truth is that the obstinate that is innate to a vast majority in the minority lurks about us and someone must plan to rectify this or plan to forfeit all, including lives.

Without taking anything away from the white people that have seen past the issue of race, this is all I have to say about the disgust that is the DASO poster.

I must also say that I found SASCO’s response to all of this highly immature and totally unnecessary. Not that I would mind a white maid, I sure would.

Mafedi Selepe.

Chez nous: Where we live

It was on a Friday morning as the crack of dawn broke open on the eyes of the Ba-Phalaborwa people. You see this part of the Sub-Sahara is known for its extreme high somatic sensation of heat. Growing up here has had me swear on my mother’s life and my father’s grave that I surely can prepare food from the sun. Like any other suburb, Phalaborwa has its own township, Namakgale. It was at this township that I learned that most if not all of the youth think and do the same thing on Fridays. They are either going on a drinking spree or that one game that ends up with all of us painted with the same brush and called with the same tag line of “boys will be boys”. oh and any other day.

 

The uninvited sunbeam beamed into my bedroom, ok not mine alone, I shared it with my two siblings. I had to wake up and get ready for the marathon that we see or hear about, that of running for the bathroom, of course after boiling water as substitution for our geyser. Did the runs, only to find that my eldest brother was already in the bath, bloody bastard!

 

Like any other day, I got ready on time for school at the local senior secondary school called Sebalamakgolo High, this is where we indeed count some thousands as the name implies. I mean people sold from titbits to sweets, cigarettes, marijuana and ecstasy, enmasse. On my way to been part of the counting thousands hoi polloi, I find a lot of different people on the road. You find the elders and juniors imbibing the amber nectar of the gods. Failing grace to these limpid liquids, these are some of the people that should be jaunting with me to class. Either for getting educated or educating, oh Namakgale my beloved township, has turned to self-hate. You think I’m slandering my home town, think again, surely you can’t explain the hurling at our teachers square in the eyes.

 

If we do have the Lord, father of the only Son of Mary’s mercies we have quiet classes. It was on the same Friday that a classmate got that call that his father was not coping well, under the retroviral pill. You see my friend had a father that wouldn’t grow up at all. We had buried his mother circa his birthday which was roughly a year ago. The thought of having to bury his father again around the same time was probably more than the proverbial say that people say when they have too much on their plate. He as expected had to rush home and play head of the house, at 16years old. What dawned on me and was cringeworthy is the guffawing that the whole class found was salient to the ghastly death of Masilo’s father. I was gobsmacked by this, to some degree.

 

The taboo that the HI virus has always carried with was not of equal strides to the kleptomaniacs that were harboured in this very town. I say this with a wagging tail, who am I fooling. It is not even wagging. I am scared for my life. That is if they do get this and obviously get someone to read it for them, I am history. My peers were killed in gory and obscene manners, by some of my peers. I have had to bury a lot of them without the others.

 

It has also been the harsh reality that I had come to terms with, that I am also a father of this nation. With every single one of them calling me “uncle” if and when they want a fix, a rand, a quart of the amber nectar of the gods. If you think I am fibbing, then you need to come with me on one of my weekend visit to my mom’s house. As Long as you promise to not feel younger than me, as you sure will be hanging with the father of the Namakgale nation. I always make sure I have chickenfeed for instance like this, otherwise I am going to assume a different name from that of “uncle”. This is my home town. I know what I am talking about.

 

I am not taking turns at pelting my hometown, not by a longshot. Because the truth of the matter is that we do have people that made sure the dynamics of the town are diluted. I do by some fourth dimension get a chance to walk around and find minds that leave me thinking is he or she from here.

 

This is my hometown, I love this place. I could shout at the top of my lungs that it too shall one day be habitual to its habitant.

 

By Mafedi Selepe