"I'm the Queen of the castle and you're the dirty rascals"

Mduli, Cele, Sexwale, Mac Maharaj, Zille and many more. More than enough to talk about 'til the cows used as lobola for Zuma's umteenth wife come home. But before another hopeful journalist takes a shot at the sleeping giant that is our countries infrastructure, a refreshing change in walter-cooler talk should be explored.

It seems the editors of Sunday Times feel the Queens Jubilee is more first-page worthy that the building of vital schools in Limpopo. No, lets not stop there; lets dedicate an entire section of the paper to a royal family that is not ur own.
In the fear of being hunted down and assasinated by the Britsh bobbys let me explain. The Queens Jubilee is the crown that broke the camels back. It is a metaphor for the reasin why our nation, and so many struggling nations continue to suffer. It began with the 1820 settlers who drove the western culture. A culture that is not our own. A culture that we continue to religiously cling to. We're allowed our perception of beauty o be defined by their skewed sense . Welve twisted our tongues attempting to impersonate their pompous language-rejecting our natural vernacular because we define our sucess by their standards.

Research shows South Korea began developing at quantam rates onces they ditched the language of the chav and communicated in their native tongue. I've recently been converted to the belief that language, and ultimately culture, hold the key to the a nations progression. We cannot avoid the overwhelming feat of tackling 11 official languages but lessening the master narrative english dictates would be a start. It's heartbreaking watching perfectly capable students, workers too, stumbling through sentances. These people kniw what they want to say but they literally cant because language limits them. Similarly; motivated learners losing hope because they are not only trying to grasp the content of wha is being taught but they are also expected to navigate through terms and jargon they have nver hard amoungst words foreign by at least 2 tongues.

SA, lets stop shooting ourselves in the foot with imported guns. Lets put down the magazines full of women with no hips, no lips and a plain complexion. Lets trade afternoon tea for a night around the fire; ma tellung African folk tales about Dyakalashe. As opposed to smaking a,"Poudly South African" sticker on everything lets actually live it. And celebrate it. As opposed to blowing out the candles for someone elses Ouma.



(taken from google)