Preservation grows better relationships

I was having a great time in the village with my kids and the wife and my parents. It was fun and fulfulling. But one thing that lingers on in my mind even in this strange hours of the night is an unsettling mention by my father. As we circled the fire for some warmth, he mentioned that a buddy of mine has just divorced. He married a mere 12 plus months ago. I'm talking youth couple here. And being in a youth marriage, something like that concerns me - especially if it hits so close to home.

I married young. I was 24 and my wife was 22. It was exactly a year ago (yesterday). And it was ironic that my father's mention coincided with the eve of my marriages anniversary. With that in mind I did some serious thinking about what I have to do in order to avoid the misfortune that miscarried my buddies marriage.

Everytime I think of my relationship with my wife, or with anyone of prime and platinum importance in my life, I think of preservation. Everytime I have a shortfall in my relationships, I always tell the other party that "fine, we have to do this. Fight and all that is. But let the ground rule. The guiding principle be one. That whatever craziness comes of the fight. However ugly it turns out to be. We must agree that this relationship is being preserved. That after the war. After the fight. Preservation prevails. The relationships must still stay. Then let's go. Round one please.

And surprisingly, we would fight knowing that at the end of it all, we must all win. We must keep this friendship/relationship. It forces us to engage each other in the interest of keeping rather than of spiting each other and feeding our egos to be more montrous.

Preservation. That word alone, has gotten my relationship to where it is today. Even relationships with associates and friends whom I never thought I could stand at all - that I just had to walk. But with preservation, it all is there today. And most of it is not just there, but is shining too.

So when you go to war. When you pick up those warring arms. When you walk into that bloody warzone - be it in your marriage, in your relationship with the VIPs of your in your life, set the ground rule (the underlying rule and compass) as that of preservation. You may be amazed by the results. I wish I had shared this with my buddy before he went with the drastic decision of destruction. But he is yet to inform of his misfortune.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

A leaf out of the chutzpah of June 16 youth

I was making a comment on the entry by Kefilwe, one of my favourite bloggers. And since I always admire the spirit of the youth of June 16 1976 and the motives for taking to the streets. For having a goal and charting a map on how to get to that goal. Holding their own until their chutzpah could be felt like a raging ripple, a cry for a better life - I thought I must share my comment to her story. Because that that spirit, I will always fight for within myself that I someday have so that I can be able to use it to also push for change in my own personal wars in which I constantly fight, or wish that I can let the Izz within me, the one who is great, be! And I have no doubt that once that happens, those around me will also benefit - and the ripple effect could be amazing.

Read on this comment:

QUOTE
Hey you. Insightful entry. I wish the lot of youth of today saw things the way the 'war hero' conversant of yours sees them. That we can somewhat adopt their spirit. Which is not such a difficult thing to do had we not been spending all our time perambulating between clubs in town or on weekends in endless house parties discussing Khanyi Mbau and Mandla and how sorry they are and what they have materially.

I wish for all of my peers, Izz included, to turn the spirit of the youth of June 16 into a personal fight within themselves to become great in other ways. Especially in ways of personal development and achievement.

We can never get close to June 16 youth spirit and chutzpah, but we can wage wars within ourselves to win over our weaknesses. You inspired me with that story to write this comment, and forgive me but am also posting it on my blog. I'm feeling the spirit I guess. Mmmmm, Amen. Hallelujah! (that stands for aluta continua I know).
UNQUOTE

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Procrastination solution, sorted with my grandmother

The answer to my progressive problem of common procrastination, a chronic lifestyle disease shared by so many of my generation, lies where I never thought. With my unsophisticated grandmother. You see, grandma, 'Bamma', as we admiringly being referring to her since we could speak, never procrastinates. She never puts what she could do today for tomorrow. Or what she could do now, for later.

'Bamma' - shangaan for mothers (yes, in plural to pile that respect) - is of a generation that toiled. A nation that got it right when it came to the work ethic, to personal triumph, to meeting those goals, to delivering, to commitment - personal loyalty. The old woman was born in 1933.

I'm not surprised that the old woman wakes up nearly at the same early-bird-catches-the-fattest-worm hour each day (unless ill-health pins her down to bed - genuinely). She often says, "I can't just sit around with my hands and do nothing. I need to do something". More like her hands are itching, that she must scratch them with some chore. Some work.

She is just like my wife's grandmother, Mmalasi, of the same generation, who died three months ago at 97 - born in 1910. She was still keeping her early bird lifestyle and work ethic. She mantained the zero-procrastination, zero-laziness attitude to her last days.

My generation. Me to be precise. I postpone on my big dream today, chronically. That defining work. I put it off for tomorrow. And like grandma always says, "tomorrow is promised no man". And in deed, that tomorrow to assault on my dreams, to put in the work ethic, the hours, the sweat, never comes. Because it is not promised me. Not in the sense that I would die today. But in the realistic sense that what I couldn't do today. What I'm postponing today, I'll just as much procrastinate tomorrow.

But it is definitely promised my grandma because she itchces everyday, every hour, to get hold of something she can work on. She will either be sewing something, grabbing that broom and sweeping up the crab in the yard and more. And it is this sweeping, as I saw my mom sweep this morning, that I thought I should do what Robin Sharma said in his international bestseller book The Greatness Guide: 'Do a clean sweep of your life'.

And that's exactly what I've started doing since I came to the village yesterday. Reflect, intro-inspect, preserve the good, burn the bad, and sweep 'em. Then attempt to duplicate the spirit of the generation of 'Bamma'.

And perhaps I'll start on writing that first novel. Write that business plan on my women's lifestyle magazine. Go on my first international trip. Buy that dictaphone to do research on my novel. Buy that business plan writing book. Wake up at 5am as I always aspired to. Go to gym as much as I desire to. Go on those runs the way I use to at Rhodes. Do that Postgrad Diploma in Marketing Management. Do that MA. Make those calls to lure my first PR clients to my company. In short, to demonstrate some commitment to my best life by doing today, what I could do today. Doing now, what I could do now.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Don't be ashamed of who you are

"The moment you become ashamed of who you are, you lose yourself" - Reuben Tishkof (portrait by Elliot Gould), Ocean's 13

I just love that quote. In general, I'm fond of quotes. They tell me I'm on the right track to getting 'there'. You know where 'there' is right? For me, 'there' is that fulfilling space where I will feel that I've become one with my deepest aspirations. My elusive dreams. My ultimate self. The me that I work so hard (yet so procrastinatingly slow) to become.

So which and where is 'there' for you?

The Reuben-quote, I heard it today on the big screen at the premiere of the franchise Ocean's 13 at Menlyn Park. One of Danny's boys (an oldie in fact) was down and out of the game of 'life' and wit and had rolled down on bed waiting for dear death. Yet the greying old man kicked the blanket, brushed himself up and said: "The moment you become ashamed of who you are, you lose yourself". And yep, lots of money they did make from the egomaniac Banks (brilliantly played by Al Pacino) coffers.

Thrill and exciment from this movie. Honour yourself with a ticket, so you can hear the quote from Reuben, the man himself.

I have collected both Ocean's 11 and 12. Can't wait to add 13 to it all.
=========================================== "Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire
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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Some smart cyber thoughts on free education

When something is exciting and good, you spread the word. I like what Szavanna had to say about "Free university education" and that in fact, she and her team are already doing great work at Potchefstroom regarding free education. I'm sharing her thoughts, verbatim, below:

QUOTE
Szavanna said...
Hi there, I am from Hungary so a lot of these issues are completely new to me. Issues around race and also issues around the cost of education. In Hungary education was free (I don't know the situation right now) from primary to tertiary level. I was actually given money monthly so that I could study without having to work as well in the same time.

Healthcare was also free. It's unbelievably difficult to get by here - I wonder many times how people survive with the little they have. I don't think the government will be able to fix things in the near future - even if they really really wanted to - it's all up to each person to contribute towards a solution (and I believe eveyone can contribute regardless of background ).

We have been running a small initiative called the OpenCafe (www.opencafe.co.za) here in Potchefstroom - which is based on open source principles. Open source projects are based on the fact that the Internet provides us with big databases on info, training manuals, etc. all "open licensed", all you need to do is - print it out, go through it - then do the exam or project. In other words it completely leaves out the idea of formal education. (Which is important here since a lot of people cannot afford it.)

I approached a lot of teachers (from different backgrounds) from primary to tertiary level locally and discussed possible projects that would help put lesson plans, and other material online and create big databases that could be used by smaller schools and even those that can't afford formal education. I haven't heard of the teachers again.

We started our project back in 2000 - since then we have met a lot of people - young and old - we tried to make sure we reach everyone - and told them about the projects we do (these projects are completely free - participants must agree to a specific weekly program to participate) and a few people (very very few) took the opportunity of the free lessons (computer skills, typing skills, web design, book publishing lessons, graphic design, small business skills etc.) however most others didn't see an opportunity there.

So my question is - to what extent does one depend on formal education - I think a lot can be done by the individual to learn skills, take exams (I have seen it work even with people from real difficult backgrounds) and many times it's the will that is missing to change and come up with solutions where the government doesn't provide one. The OpenCafe project has been experimenting with lots of ideas, edu-projects of all kinds (one of them specifically is providing free education)- we are still in the beginning, lots to be done - any feedback and suggestions are appreciated.
June 13, 2007 12:31 PM
UNQUOTE

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Free university education

Black people in South Africa will continue to struggle economically. I was reminded of this when I came across an overwhelming mass of strikers who were planning to storm Pretoria Academic Hospital demanding better percentage increase on their wages - everybody who was inside working had to duck for cover.

Now, everybody in the overwhelming crowd was black. All the strikers - black. No one in that crowd was white. I wondered if all public servants in South Africa were black, and I subjectively concluded NO!

Perhaps it's not in the white man's style to strike. But a black man achieved all that he has achieved by far through mass marches. And wage hike is no different. But the black man is still poor in this country. And just why am I thinking that the black man will be poor in South Africa for many decades to come?

It's because we get ripped off by our very own government that we support at the voting station.

The black kid (and some white kids) are nailed to a coffin with the monumental TEFSA/NSFAS tertiary education loans that never end. At the same time, the majority of their parents have to make ends meet with meager salaries that are so distant from the government bosses in this country.

My wish, to the above, is that the many millions of rands wasted in this country be spent to subsidise tertiary education to a level such that the student leaves university not owing a thing - but good toil and sweat for his country. Free higher education.

The monies that are squandered from the taxpayers coffers surely can contribute a lot towards such a cause. And the loss, if any made, will surely be offset by a mass of an educated generation. I have no doubt there are many black kids out there who can cut it at university but are prejudiced because their parents can't get a mere 10% wage increase on their already peanuts income to put these kids through tertiary.

I wish this mass strike could be emulated by youth in this country joining forces and demanding zero corruption, free university education (on merit), wipe-off of current TEFSA/NSFAS debt and more free education. There's nothing wrong with that cause since the country is suffering from a haemorrhaging skills pool anyway.

I say free higher education in South Africa, zero debt to all graduates owing government institutions and 10% increase to all my parents, uncles, aunts, cousins and more out there. Lest we all black people stay poor for many generations to come whilst our government leaders are getting obese with taxpayers money. Our money. And remember, the wealthy do not pay taxes - they merely just recycle it. It's the lumpenproletariat who religiously do.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Vodacom's internet card gives me pain

I wrote excitedly about my Vodacom mobile data card (internet card) when I bought it, some time two weeks ago. I was quite excited that the internet will be at my finger tips regardless of where I be. Well, I guess Vodacom is not really one of the best companies around. They've managed to turn my data card-imagined-convenience into appalling frustration.

From the second or third day of using my card, I experienced serious technical problems with the card - pointing out one error after the other, if not just simply not responding. At times, I just get disconnected whilst busy with something online, risking losing my work. On many occassions, I have to reconnect more than five times in one surfing session of less than an hour. And, when it gets bad, and it often does, I have to remove and reload the software.

The after service I get is not so great either. One of their technicians at Menlyn, said to be the 'best' in the rest of Pretoria, simply pushed my problem to be attended by a trainee technician (she excused herself for the lack of skill) whom I had to tutor on what's what with the card the whole time, and whilst at it, she messed up all sorts of files on my laptop - disorganising my music which took hours to arrange per category. On my second visit, after the problem had persisted, the technician diagnosed that the problem was the software, as opposed to the card and replaced the latest version with an older one. The replacement never worked at all once I got home.

Now I'm so tired of all these frustrations and the run around that I'm returning the data card tomorrow, and am sure it's going to be a fight as they're going to try and refuse to exchange the product or refund my 2 grant. Perhaps Knott-Craig is punishing me for refusing to take the binding 24 months contract.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Dialogue on Mxit: it's uses and abuses

Perhaps it's because at the heart of Mxit sit entrepreneurs. Entreprising individuals who have as their foremost interest, to innnovate. Be it in solving a business or social problem. I was rather caught off-guard that Chris Coetzee, a keen researcher on Mxit, invited me to air my thoughts on the social networking technology. This was following my two open-ended entries about Mxit and its impact on the social fabric.

I'm always one who believes that dialogue, when facing any sort of problem, is extremely good and can lead to solutions never thought of by separately thinking parties. The following is my are my further thoughts on Mxit that were invited by Chris on this blog:


"Dear Chris,

Thank you very much for your interest in inviting and hearing my thoughts. Such dialogue is much appreciated.

First, I must let you know that, contrary to the impression that may have been created by my blog entries, I, like many others, am impressed with Mxit as a technology and a tool for empowering the consumer, especially in the backdrop of steep, rip off prices from the three corroborating oligarchs. And the many positive uses of Mxit are obvious and adored.

My views, as invited, are as follows:

• Mxit has a higher chance, in its current use-model, of side effects that outweigh the economic and social benefits it provides.
• It transforms the time that was previously devoted to other necessary activities, such as reading; studying; in-person conversing and 'living' of such teenagers, into wasted time chatting.
• It halves the efforts of the paedophiles and provides them with an easy access to the many innocent girls.
  It's model, of a near-free access, makes it all that easy to aquire and therefore increases the scale or scope of the potential victims that paedophiles can access.
• With the latest 'multimedia' enabled version of Mxit, I have no doubt that more nude, and pornographic pictures of both young and innocent boys and girls will circulate.
• Parents are touted to be the solution. That they must police their kids. This will not work towards a long lasting creative solution. The solution must lie within the technology and its model (or access), if not with greater social responsibility program.
• As I've wishingly suggested, attaching an adjusted but fair price (yet cheap) to Mxit can somewhat entice responsible use.
• Another thought is that, what you pay for, you will not abuse freely. In a way I must say.
• For the solution, or just an adjustment, one could look at the reason why SMS doesn't experience or attract as much abuse.
• As part of Mxit social responsibility, particularly since it enjoys such wide and pervasive support, you may embark on an intensive public awareness campaign.
• The above can be done in alliance with other technology-interest groups - social or business.
• Depending on the potential dent to your coffers, one could embark on popular media campaign, PR (to target parents) various, road trips to schools and other places.
• The above would be done in the interest of educating both the user and the parent, teacher, guardian, relative and friends of such a user, of the potential abuses and side effects of the technology and how members of the community can spot changing behaviour in the user.
• At the same time, one could make them aware of the need for the users independent responsibility, that ultimately, they must police themselves.

Nevertheless, I still believe that a different pricing model would have better results although I'm concerned about the viability of that for your business. My further suggestion is that the latter should work together with the awareness campaign so that the user can be aware, especially at their tender and 'gullible' age, of the potential dangers of their abuse (or gullibility thereof) stemming from lack of responsibility or proper awareness.

The aim, rather than to be anti-Mxit or any other consumer-benefit driven technology (like government is), is to be socially responsible. This is imperative because the amazinly unscrutinising users of such technology are at a stage in their lives where they are absorbing many teachings that must build them into the responsible and smart leaders of tomorrow. A tomorrow which will be dominated by technology that must, again, be used in a socially responsible manner that must yield its benefits for the good of society than the other way around.

Please note that I focused this specifically on the age group of the popular user of Mxit, which the Sunday Times claimed to be 12-17.

Thank you for this opportunity for dialogue Chris. Much appreciated once again.

Regards,
Israel Mlambo"

The two previous entries here:

• http://izzonline.blogspot.com/2007/05/mxit-is-like-inescapable-crack.html
• http://izzonline.blogspot.com/2007/04/mxit-culture-fcuked-generation.html

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Life's tough

I wonder if the meaning of life is 'up and down. Bad and good. Happy and sad. Hot and cold. '

It seems, from what I'm feeling now, that it's all about such contrasts. And it is for us to strike the balance. To keep on fighting for an equillibrium. But yes, it's not that easy. Easier said than done they say. Your life is life because there's a host of other people around. And that's why it's hard most of the time to strike a sound equillibrium.

Life life life. I'm gonna live you anyways.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

The all time only traffic solution

Traffic is bad. Traffic has economic costs. It has emotional costs. It has time costs. It has all sorts of costs including messing up your car as it snails at the lowest gear each day guzzling more than the fuel it should had it been faster. But traffic, on South African routes to work, is part of our lives and is here to stay. Costly, drama queen-styled solutions have been invented to cap it to no avail and still some are being undertaken which, unfortunately, will fail too. Well, I propose a cheap and saving solution that can nip traffic for good.

The solution, ironically, lies in a problem. The problem of office space. Whilst I worked at the Sunday Times, there was constant talk about the lack of well accommodating office space. At the Sandton PR agency I worked for, there was some hussling and squeezing about fitting in every project-religious worker comfortably so they can be productive. At my current company, Unisa and the Centre for Business Management, space is a mother of all headaches, amidst the humugus buildings arrayed on that hilltop.

Let me cut to the chase. Imagine that at least 50 percent of the office workers were given the non-cost attached incentive of working from home? Imagine this was done on a weekly, bi-weekly or monthly rotational basis to allow the other 50 percent to swap the incentive. They only come to the office when they need to, and this wouldn't be at the religious time that everyone heads on the extremely clogged roads - it may be at 10am, at 11am or any given time just to come to a team meeting or to pick up a new project on delivery of another.


Such a scheme would work wonders. Traffic would be nipped in the butt. Production would be upped in some way. Hell, in my company of the future that I'm sitll wet dreaming about 80 percent (if not all) of the workers will work from home, from coffee shops, from their mothers homes, from hospital canteens, from gym from anywhere you can get network access to the internet to fast track communication.

I don't see any reason why this is not done already. On a larger scale at least - for I suspect it may be done by other companies ran by smarter CEOs and HR Directors.

Why would it work:

• Because people love incentives that taste like this and working from the comfort of their home would be far more exciting than in the office. Just hand out mobile internet cards and a laptop to them, if they need them
• Bosses can get more production because somebody left on their own - experienced Tom, Dick and Marry of course - will be compelled to feel more obliged to submit work on time than somebody feeling that having come to the office means you have come to work, whereas we know most have just come to galavant and drink coffee
• It could have a tremendous savings both on the running resources of the company and reduce the meaningless chatter that achieves nothing
• There would be less piggybacking. You work from home, solo or co-ordinating with anyone via new communication technologies, you become more accountable and feel you can't let down your team
• Because it would simply be a lifestyle of the future for such a company

Counting on the Gautrain and other montrous politicians wet dreams that only cause waste and sow a perfect corruption platform will not kick the bad traffic phenomena. And with the rapid development of stacked townhouses everywhere, we are bound to experience the India type of traffice on our non-developing, non-widening South African roads .

It'll be simple ideas and methods that safe the day. Just get the workers to show their project timeliness and deliverables, then let them go work from home. You may be amazed at the accountability production - it may be the same as at the office or even better.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

South African economy built on cheap black labour

South Africa is built by black foreigners. Cheap immigrant black labour. The very foreigners that we are xenophobic towards. The area that I live in, Mooikloof Ridge (Pretoria East) is under hefty development of countless security complexes, including golf estates and the like.

The labourers that work the erection of new complexes in my estate and the surroundings are all but South African. I've personally interacted with a number of them. They speak, predominantly, SeSotho of Lesotho, Shangaan of Mozambigue and Shona of Zimbabwe - languages which I grew up around. They build our South Africa. Our beloved country and our bounty-full economy - which, us all South Africans benefit from in so many ways.

But the conditions they live in are, if not non-existent, appalling. In Pretoria East, adjacent to Mooikloof Ridge, they live, literally, under trees in a veld inside makeshift dog-fitting plastic 'houses'. I just find that disgusting that somebody hired these willing, laborious and dedicated black people and then never bothered to consider providing them with livable humane accomodation - even if it was some of those for-hire shacks. They get water from a near-by stream to drink, cook and that's where they also wash - as we see them naked in the afternoons as we drive by cozzily through these ripping cold.

I can't doubt that the employer couldn't procure the labour of some of the lazy South Africans who would be dead first than seen laying a brick (I'm generalising here). I have no doubt, again, that the employer is holding a gun to these foreigners' heads as they know they are (most of them) in the country illegally and have no recourse. At least the one thing that they don't rave about is going on strike endlessly whilst the economy kneels down. The exact reasons why they should be treated better than they are.

I worry about this for one reason: The way one treats others, or their guests, is a reflection of their moral fabric or the non-existence of it. So if these bunch of South African contracting companies treat this fellow neighbouring South Africans in this inhumane fashion - albeit shocking underpayment - what does that make of them? What does that make of us South Africans? Especially when looked through a foreign mirror? I bet as better, more powerful African country we wouldn't care less right?

I'll be first to admit that illegal immigrants should be helped back home for flouting the rule of law. But at the same time, I'll support the development of the South African economy but not at the inhumane exploit of others, especially if such people are just helpless and willing to do the work that some unemployed South African wouldn't do.

Build on SA. Bouy on SA economy. But this brothers will one day despise you as they do that other super power.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Cheaters, damned cheaters

I hate Simba. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it. But will still buy them - especially if Willards is not available as an option. Simba has gone despicably devilish, and still, they wear their lion smile with pride. I don't mean to rant. I hate ranting. But I've got to express my anger at Simba.

They more than reduced their bag of 30g chips. I bet, and I'll weigh them soon, that the 30g pack of chips that I buy everyday of the work-week doesn't really weigh 30g. To confirm the suspcions of my big piercing eyes, I paraded the near-empty bag to friends and colleagues, and some confirmed that the featherlight bag is no longer stacked to the same level as in the past years. Cheaters they're. Simba thought no one would notice if they replaced that with colourfully hypnotic packaging. 'Damned liars' - as Gollum of The Lord of the Rings fame would put it.

In the past, if my visual memory serves me right, the Simba 30g chips bag was near to full, if not beyond half. Now all their packets, specifically Tomato Sauce and Smoked Beef flavours, carry only a few crumbs. I bet all the more chips baking money went to the branding and the top quality high-gloss packaging - which I immediately tossed to the bin once I finished to TKO the 25 dried chips in it.

Today, just now, I popped open a Willards bag of 30g and munched on countless chips - endlessly. Not as distinctively tasty as Simaba's, but I munched for a longer time. And it was a real snack. So next time I go on a chips hunt, Willard it will be. Unless I'm left no option but the empty high gloss package of Simba - perhaps for decorative purposes in my cold office.

Also see this about being robbed daylight: http://izzonline.blogspot.com/2007/05/helsmall-consumer-helplessness-but.html

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

The Times daily: Is it piggybacking to gain dear life?

Is it me or is new tabloid, The Times, a hyperactive version of the Sunday Times? I would like to bet that it's not me. I went on to the The Times online yesterday and today several times. As is daily habit that I get morning dose of the news from the Sunday Times online, I was left wondering and surprised when I landed up on The Times online pages.


For a moment I thought it was just my PC with ill-functioning history tool. But I was right. I punched in www.sundaytimes.co.za and was let to The Times. I figured that it must be a launch mis-strategy. But I felt the following during my demand for my Sunday Times morning coffee dose:

• That the guardians of the Sunday Times brand would permit the confusion between their brand and The Times brand (sisters I know, but different skins)
• That I, the reader, has to wonder where I'm online -whether The Times or Sunday Times
• That as an online reader of the Sunday Times, The Times is forced on me
• That The Times online is in fact nearly or entirely the same as Sunday Times online - the content is the same, the branding is the same, the site structure and navigation is the same, the columnists are the same, the commentators on podcasts are the same.
• Felt lost in transition when I clicked on the Sunday Times site link and I was still within The Times - kind of in the Sunday Times as the content is the Sunday Times'

Shouldn't you notice any of the above, it means it has been corrected.

I haven't gotten hold of the hardcopy of The Times as yet. And just hoping that it is not, marketing pitch-wise, a hyperactive baby version of the Sunday Times. I must say, I still got to find out, online, where is The Times (content-wise), but the brand of it, the masthead, I'v seen and it looks pretty.

Vincent Maher got hit by surprise when he discovered that: "The web site is also live but, given that it’s the same architecture as the Sunday Times site I am not going to comment until I know whether this is a temporary solution or the real deal."

In the words of one blogger, Uwe Gutschow The Times "...sounds a lot more exciting than it actually is". His views are in concert with mine. He continues to say that: "Their newspaper will definitely interest a slightly more savvy and exciting audience, at least in the beginning".

I'll do long verbatim for once on my blog as Uwe also had some interesting tips for The Times:

1. let users and bloggers create content
   
2. turn everyone with a camera into a journalist and reward them for relevant, valued content
   
3. learn from wikipedia
   
4. employ content producers, not a newspaper editor to run the show
   
5. conceptualise with marketers and companies as to the best way to produce content that will aid in marketing brands
   
6. be bold, innovative and pioneering - we've offered to work with them to do some innovative campaigns for clients to become part of their sales tool and case studies
   
7. print newspapers based on people's profiles by interest, such as international finance, soccer, etc. - pay only for the content you want
   
8. change the business model
   
9. advertising will provide the most revenue, but collaborate with innovators to profit from other forms of marketing techniques

I just wish the new daily, and its brand for that matter, had been created; marketed, and launched on the back of its own neo strenghts and weaknesses rather than of a leading weekend paper. I know it would cannibal up a pint of the strength of the Sunday Times, but potential is there. Especially online.

However, I can't wait to get my hands on a different read from the print version of The Times, for as Israel, I love things new.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Beauty and the goose, or is it the beast?

The tooth fairy is still having a go at my front teeth. Like really giving them a serious goose, kicking it to the middle of the nerve - which Dr Sic said will be operated into numbness tomorrow at 10am.

And here I'm. Instead of saying a prayer over the forthcoming op, I'm having joy salivating over what The Seatle Coffee Co. beautifully called a 'Triple Chocolate Chilli Tart'. What a sugarrative and prettily designed cake it is - unfortunately, it doesn't taste as beautiful as it looks (talk of beauty outside, isn't beauty inside reflected).


Anyway, I'm washing it down with a tasteful Caffe Latte as my ever wondering mind perambulates (as Fred Khumalo would put it) about how ugly I've been for the past seven days. Ugly as a goose trying to stage a dance in muddy waters - it will end up looking uglier.

That's not to suggest that ugly people are like geese. But surely, I hated my face when it was disfigured by the tooth fairy. This made me wonder then, how do people who, compliments of conventional wisdom, are dubbed ugly feel for the rest of their lives. Especially knowing that change is not near, except for those with fat credits cards and medicacl aids to afford them aesthetological refigurement. Ok sorry, that means plastic surgery.

I don't even have a right to tag anyone as ugly or liken them to a muddy goose. But capitalist TV producers have taught me that there's 'in deed' the beautiful and the beasts in this world. And that's a pity that everyone looks at people through the eyes of the pop-tv images - make it American images at that.

Before my triple dose Gen Payne prescription from the anti-tooth fairy kind doctor, I looked horrible. Ugly. And my smiles didn't stand a pint of chance in a monkey or goose contest. That's when I realised that being ugly can really confine you down the lower radar of the social ladder.

Let's face it. As people, on average, we succeed due to our looks. We got our looks to thank for the pretty partner we have. The cute kids we are blessed with. The bigger upmarket houses we occupy in those 'golden corridor' suburbs (as David Bullard put in his weekend column). This also goes for the the uber-friends we enjoy, the less laboursome jobs, associations and all that uber-blah blah blah crap that we define our lives with.

And in our lives, first impressions last long right? Isn't it possible that the beautiful people - the non-geese - enjoy the quality of the incentives of the first impression that is forged by their beauty? And by the same token, that the ugly people, the goose, get punished for looking less than the blessed? In my mind, as sensitive a topic as this is, it is true. It holds water - not an ocean I know. But some good drops of liquid. And all these thanks to the television imagery of beauty vs the beast - wherein beauty carries the praise flay, and beast the laughable stalk.

I wouldn't, and you shouldn't pretend to, doubt that beautiful people get often promoted at work. Get hired faster than the goose. Get hotter hubbies or wifies. Look better in any masterpiece or crap cloth they wear. In my mind, and yes the latte and the triple chocolate chilli tart are speaking in concert with me, it does hold.

Why did I choose this topic today? Well, I just didn't have a good past week as I thought that I would be disfigured for life before that Gen Payne prescription - and I was trying to ease and acclimatise to the less pretty boy/beast tag. At the same time, I had drawn parallels between death and the healthy life. And again, I had thought a lot about happiness.

Which draws me back to the latte. When I served it, I popped my sugar sachets open and my attention was interested by the quotations at the back. Those Hullets sachets confirmed what I always pondered about regarding happiness:

Happiness is produced not so much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen as by little advantages that occur every day - BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

Happiness is a direction, not a place - SYDNEY HARIS

Remember that happiness is a way of travel, not a destination - RAY GOODMAN

From contentment with little comes happiness - AFRICAN PROVERB

My own: Happiness is not beauty of the body. It is beauty on the inside.

So hey, regardless of what the looks are. Goose or pin-up masterpiece, beauty won't follow automatic. Beauty rages from the inside and will show on the outside, sizzling like the foam of a perfectly boiled caffe latte. It we shouldn't be fooled by beauty or tricked by ugliness - you'll be surprised of the ocean of happiness soaring from the inside.

That's why I wasn't really sad about my disfigured face.

Beauty and the beast? Beauty and the goose? I think don't draw your reality from the television images of what is beautiful and ugly. Draw your own. I just did.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Master photographer unveiled

Out of vanity, I'm going to assume that Izz is a great photographer as much as he writes in a masterly manner. See the masterpieces taken in my village and home whilst my wife was hibernating there on maternity.

Talia and her grandmother in the background

Extra booze bought for Talia's traditional ceremony

The last breakfast at the village. Yes. It's a bit un-lighter for breakfast - that's village for you

Princess Tinyiko in a 'cake-cage' - compliments of grandfather

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Tooth fairy kicked my ass, no jokes

I'm still aching like hell from that toothache, which, the dentist, Dr Sic, informs me it's infact a naughty nerve that must be cut out.But nevertheless, I believe the tooth fairy wasn't laughing when she kicked my ass. The above is unfavourable pics that my wife hates so much. I hate the fact that I just can't smile even if I tried.

That's as far as my award winner smile goes. And after the nerve op, which I hope never happens since the pain has subsided (yes, heavy cocktail of painkillers - so not really gone, the Dr warns me).

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

Free mobile data cards for the bloggers?

Perhaps my blogging, or is it my writing, has become of an addiction lately. I find myself wanting to write about so many things all the same time, but less time to do so. I think, as of now, 01:35am is the precise time on this machine, I'll be blogging more often and expressing thoughts more intently.

Why? Well, I just managed to install, and set up my new mobile conntect data card. And the beauty of this thing is that as I write this, I'm just 'chillaxing' in bed - albeit a very hectic and bad day.

Daughter is sick. My toothache is murdering me and has in fact swollen the entire right side of my face. It looks disfigured and I'm sure my kids find me scary, hence Tinyiko, the two month old has been screaming the whole day. Seems the bones I was eating got lodged into one of the nerves. Yes, Ouch.

In any case, the blogflag goes on. The writingmast keeps standing high, sick or not sick. It's great to keep up with technology I must say though. No more writing on word first in the evenings, and posting the next day at work and no posting on the weekends. I'm seriously considering buying vodafone mobile data cards for all the serious bloggers on the SA blogosphere. I really am. Let me find the funds first. And will get back to you. Ok. The tooth fairy calls me to sleep now. What an ass the ache is.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

MXiT is like inescapable crack

It is reported that ‘a recent survey conducted on MXiT, found that sex was the biggest topic of discussion on MXiT and that it outweighed by more than 70% chats about sport, hobbies, education, jokes or politics.

So it’s simple. Be freedom of speech and pro-tech like me, but we have to agree that people flirt for sex on that thing.

GenerationX or is it GenerationMXiT Up?
For the youth, especially the 12-17 majority users group quoted by the Sunday Times GenerationX survey, MXiT is the in thing. “MXing it up is all the rage”. Because it’s cheap and these teens can misuse their time effectively with that Stellenbosch developed software. As I've written before here, MXiT culture, unfortunately, breeds a fcuked generation.

The Sunday Times did an extensive coverage of this new technology (they also tend to mention blogs a lot these days in their paper. Kudos for this one) and in fact, in praise of it as the new in thing for the kids. The benefits of it were weighed heavier in their articles than the side effects which are a lot more significant than the incentives - particularly in the survey supplement.


‘4 million’ logons a day, 10 000 new users daily
We just got to face it, even us who love and embrace new technologies and empowering the consumer, something’s just destroy the fabric of society and our cultures. Like I said before, MXiT takes the majority time of the kids (and surprisingly, some grown ups). Especially the ones who don't really understand the potential dangers of something that offers easy-come incentives. Talk of crack cocaine. The paper states that there are around 5 million logons a day, and a blog claiming that there are 10 000 new users daily. The virus is spreading fast, in the name of freedom of speech, consumer empowerment and cheap – and profit of course, for the developer.

Conversations become cybertic
Teens are spending more time on MXiT than really talking, naturally breaking bread with friends and family. The conversation, as we know, is moving to be cybertic in nature. Whether that's a good thing or not, depends on who benefits or is already addicted or is high on 'freedom of speech' as though they sniffed crack for too long than necessary.


The card of freedom of speech must be played when it makes sense and balances things in an equally beneficial manner. Not simply because freedom of speech is an important part of human interaction and communication. As I said in my first MXiT entry, you can't support something for the sake of supporting it or that it’s innovative technology. Some cultural disruptive technologies need not be or have to be regulated (read: regulated, not censored).


As worries of destruction cut into mainstream media parents are seeing smoke. Not that he meant bad when he gave birth to it. He just wanted, probably, too empower the consumer and open up communication platform whilst making money at it through bringing an audience together and selling their souls to the advertisers. But he knows, surely, that the side effects now outweigh the consumer's gain.


He claims that '95% of MXiT four million users employ the software as a replacement to SMS'. That to me, just sounds like bollocks supported by statistics. Why isn't he explaining, not that he is due to, that at the same time, such replacement takes a different form and incentive. With MXiT, the incentive is that you pick cyber girlfriends and boyfriends over the net and do whatever with them. What a perfect hunting field for the paedophile.


Flirting just like cybering on American ‘sex sites’
And most friends I have spoken to use if for flirting online (I know many also use it for replacement of costly SMS). And my little brothers are collecting 'hot' chics on MXiT like cheap sweets. However, Heunis distances himself from the reality that MXiT facilitates real life profile and cellphone number exchange where innocent and incautious teens swap such with paedophiles. See Sunday Times’ ‘MXiT at centre of nude teen photos uproar’ for more digital shock. MXiT version 5.1.1 is even a lot more advanced that picture exchanges will be done instantly on the chat program.


Paedophiles galore, a den of sick hornies let lose
Think of what happened last year. A 33-year old paedophile abducting an innocent 16-year old girl using tactics via MXiT. I'm sure many little girls out there believe to be chatting with peers but in fact it’s sometimes criminal-intent older men who are trying to lure them, if not simply introducing them to what they shouldn’t be at their innocent age


Brother’s confiscated multimedia phone
My sister had to confiscate my little brother’s phone just recently, after he stopped demonstrating his love for magazines and reading in general, and spending less and less time on his school books. He tells me he had 11 girlfriends on MXiT. All with pictures. Some sexy and scantily clad bodies. The girls looked her age, but fact remains, they are half naked. And there was porn too from Mig33 and peperonity.com.


Solutions?
Government can’t do much about it. Parents can’t succeed if they keep buying their kids hi-multimedia capability cellphones and expect flirts and porn not to happen on that hi-tech tool. I think that what Heunis has to think of doing, in the interest of preserving the safety of these girls, is to up the cost of using MXiT. Economic and marketing research has long shown that where anything is free and ‘useful’, it will soar in demand. Where a product is useful and price is up, then the demand will be less. He must not place it at the SMS benchmark, but at least to deter free access, which is the one that leads to abuse.

May be I’m digitally shocked with MXiT because I have brought two daughters in this world. And when things like these happen, it’s the girls that get hardest hit and abused and the price they pay is too high. And for the little boys, some paedophiles now prefer them too. And for the ‘freedom of speech’ card waving adults, your culture of natural interaction might slip off your life.

Or better still, and not that it's their problem, but may be Vodacom, MTN and Cell C should make SMS cheaper to cancel out MXiT's culturally distasteful advantage. They could make their SMS a bit lower without going straight flat on the ground as to render them free like MXiT (and I'm aware you pay for data transfers).

I was nearly arrested possessing 'crack'

Death. Death is a strange animal – if animal means something cruel. It so inexplicable and always been so. In my life and in my family, death has always played shy of making its grand statement. The only time that it kicked down my family door was when it took my cousin – a dearest friend whom I couldn’t say goodbye to (exams at Rhodes) and my grandfather – a true arch fountain of wisdom. And now that I’m feeling that I’m on, by metaphor, my deathbed, I wish he was here.

The pain is killing me, nearly literally. The toothache is going to bury me I tell you. I’ve been on Grandpa (painkillers) for the past 72 hours and at this moment, as I write this after some meditation and a silent prayer in this cold study – pale walls staring at me like death itself, I’m forced to reflect and draw the cold parallels with death.

It’s almost as though my own life is slipping out of my mouth. The pain telling me that I’m gripping you until you give in. Almost like the roots of my life and this air I breathe, is steeped in my gums – which at this moment, the part to the left is nearing blue/black and collapsing inside – useful information courtesy of wifey dearest who had to act dentist several times throughout the night between 1am and 5am.

I haven’t slept an hour. Everytime the crack-like painkiller faded, I’d wake up in pain, tossing and turning needing more. Now, I’m facing the death of my tooth. I have faced it before, and it was pulled out with a pair of dentistry pliers – wish such force the pain was in the motion of force than in the pulling by that man in a white coat. I face the reality of pulling another one. Why the parallels of death?

Because this time the tooth is a front one. In less than six months I’m losing my second tooth. And this man, this husband, this father, is only 25. What the fuck? Can’t I be left alone by this strange death and the tooth fairy so that I be the handsome looking hubby and father, than one with gaps when he smiles – and for me, smiles are life. Taking away smiles is taking away my life [Uncle Sam’s When I See You Smile plays in the background].

Only if my old man was here. That wise traditional healer would now be putting some African concoction together. Spit a passionate prayer into it. And voila. My tooth stays and the worm eating its nerve falls out for me to kick its ass into the middle of Modo. When last I was this miserable, it was when me and my wife faced the devil. Face to face. Literally. The meet was about brokering a deal. To decide whether we give our last daughter life or not. Beautiful Tinyiko is now two months. Hail pro-life.

So that’s where the death parallel kicks in. The misery of choosing to keep or to let go. Give life or take life. I’m going to try and stand the pain. Find some alternatives. And first, I have to look to African culture practices before I go European. For my grandfather always went Africa first before chopping and pulling things out.

When a man is on his ‘deathbed’, his mind starts really working in congruent with his heart. And all that he wanted to do, he swears that given a second chance (out of this one), he would do it no procrastination. That’s me. So much in grave pain that the emotion makes me pledge that if go through this one – bring on the game. Lord just this once, I say. I will live by my word and achieve all that I wanted to. That’s death for you. When it stares you in the face and looks up your mouth, you start calculating in reflection.

I frankly don’t know what was the point of this entry. Especially since I’m in so much pain and here am I seating in a cold study blogging. I guess death can’t rob me of my writing. For I am expressive. I’m an expressive soul.

PS: The only excitement over this miserable weekend was to shop for straight three hours at the mammoth Menlyn Mall with Princess Talia – just the two of us, albeit the tooth fairy kicking my ass. Talia even made us eat Wine Gums regardless of daddy cool’s grave misery.

I sure looked dangerous, black face covered up to eye level with a scarf. Somebody must have thought Laden’s man in the house. Duck duck everybody. Duck. What with all those stares. If arrested for questioning, they would have found crack in my pockets as I carried the white dust with me to chew on every 30min. Grandpa does look like crack right?

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire

The SA blogosphere is 'entirely' white

Not that it's worrying. But a small concern it is. The SA blogosphere is nearly entirely white - I realised since starting to blog. I went across many blogs on Amatomu, the SA blog aggregator, and you hardly ever come across a blog by a black person. I asked qDot, one black who features reasonably well on the SA blogosphere, what the cause may be. He briefly explained it this way:

Why the lack of [black] bloggers. I think...

1. Expensive bandwidth
2. Technophobic apathy
3. Some just don't know

I don't doubt that he is right about any of these, generally. But I really believe that anyone who wants to express themselves will find a way of doing so - all the better fast ways let me rather say. Even if it means stealing a moment of their own lunch time to propagate their own cause, their laundry, or the hot night they had yesterday with their unsolicited partner. Whatever choice of topic.

I suspect that, worryingly, black people may be turning more and more less expressive and opinionated in some spheres of life - so anti-1976 youth spirit. They maybe becoming less mouthpieces of their own cultures and somewhat feel a bit off-ish for laying bare their writings in a blog for fear of judgement. True, 'some just don't know'and I've come across them whilst publicising my own blog.

But they speak, mostly, of a phobia of reading and the lack of writing ability - the kind that may be of palatable chew to other people. I don't know if that's such a good shot that people love reading and writing less and less. And on chats with friends, I noticed that it is not really that - the issue I mean.

The problem is that of incentives. And yes, blogging is not very good or good at all in offering much of materialistic incentives or return on (time) investment - and us blacks, as Chika Onyeani of Capitalist Nigger fame said, we love material and we want to show it all off. Can you realy show off a blog? Well, I'm showing off mine. And in fact, it inspired me to re-incarnate that long lost dream of writing my debut book.

And more for, as this black man that I'm, I get incentives in that by blogging, I sharpen my writing daily. I discover new technologies of my generation and thus, am embracing them, such as blogging. I also get to write what I like (albeit responsibly because my name is laid bare here) and I feel, somewhat like Biko when he said, "I write what I like".

I feel that blogging can do a lot of good for the black people, notwithstanding the lack of resources to doing so. But one thing for sure, resources are available (limited of course) and are accessible. Down-town Johannesburg is laid with salon/internet cafes opened by ever-joyful and restless entreprising Nigerians and Sunnyside in Pretoria is also nicely-ridden with same salon/tech shops with cheaper internet-user rates.

More so, there is internet access of great bandwidth in companies where we all work and we can always spare a moment to Shakespeare or Biko a word or two. Especially if we are able, already, to spare time to read and forward all those interesting jokes in viral mass emails (which work nearly alongside blog concept, in terms of syndication and extensivity of reach).

I think apathy is rather extending itself from the black individual to the black mass - certain groups together, not entire mass as such. The struggle youth, those in Fred Khumalo's group/'generation', are the masses that embraced the prominent cultures and trends, although with caution, of their times and came out to be the kind of admirable writers they are today - and lead in other fields.

So the problem is only partially,

• 'Expensive bandwidth'
• 'Technophobic apathy'
• 'Some just don't know'.

The answer is more cultural than just resources access one.

I'm not choosing blogging for the black brothers and sisters for there is more to life than to blog. And I'm not speaking to those who don't like the arts or new technology - 'every man his own'. They can express themselves in other ways.

But would black people really want to remain under-represented in a phenomenon where interesting and insightful debates take place? I know Patricia De Lille didn't choose to be left out of this blogcake.

I didn't mean to write this entry. But the blues song In the mood by Glenn Miller inspired me to kill my fingers a little. Haaah, what relieve to write! You so maar forget it's cold outside.

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"Judge of a man by his questions, rather than by his answers." - Voltaire