As the holiday season approaches, in South Africa this time of year has also become known as cash heist season. As more money is put into circulation to meet the needs of christmas shoppers and holiday makers, armed gangs consisting of up to 15 or 20 members, armed with R4 rifles and AK47's attack cash-in=transit vans with military precision. The blog It is the Question brings up the debate of whether South Africa should be trying to encourage a cashless society.
The fate of South Africa's former deputy president Jacob Zuma who is to stand trial for corruption in July next year is never far from South African media headlines, and is always a popular topic of conversation in the local blogosphere. The Hope Flower looks at whether the struggle for power between Zuma and President Thabo Mbeki in the ruling African National Congress is indicative of a greater underlying struggle in South Africa. She raises the notion that instead of a struggle between black and white, the country is now embroiled in a class struggle between rich and poor. On the same issue fodder writes about Jacob Zuma's many supporters who are expected to show up at the Durban High Court in their thousands on Saturday when Zuma is to make a brief appearance. Zuma will be formally indicted and given his trial date.
Finally, hip hop/spoken word poetry is undergoing something of a rennaissance in South Africa, particularly in the city of Johannesburg, fondly known by its inhabitants as Jozi ( a word that has emerged from the slang of the black townships). Lebo Mashile is one of the country's hottest spoken word poets and is known for her incredibly beautiful and fiery feminist performance poetry.
Lebo has been an inspirational force to many young South African poets, and now some of them have started blogging their poetry.
The dust of the soil from this streets,
The “WOLA” shouts on the streets all day,
cheerfully I shouted “HEITA” back to this streets,
they groomed me, spoilt me,
They made me cry Im Black, young, powerful,
Thami – The Celestine Truth
they read our destiny
from the cracks
beneath the soles of our feet
and we bleed
they whisper truths
in the swirling dust
and we close our eyes
blinded by unrelentless truth….
Koko – The imperfect poet
A child of about just over teen years
Strolling the streets of Jozi
Empty stomach, empty handed
Only 5 bucks for a taxi home
Home being a single roomed shack in township house backyard
A child full of unattainable ambitions….
Floyd – Floyd's Perspectives