Soet Lemon

Oranges are a funny fruit; not funny ‘haha’ but humorous contradictions of creation – they are sweet on the inside and sour as krauts on the outside; kind of like what mosquitoes are to the food chain, I’m sure there is pretty good explanation as to why mozzies only suck the blood out of mammals, but as if that isn’t sadistic enough they insist on keeping us up at night with that ridiculous calculated buzzing. Oranges are generally a bitch to peel and for some cruel indignity of nature they insist on leaving your fingers looking as shoddy as a chain smokers’ at a panel interview. But this doesn’t make us hate oranges any less. The sweet drip of a ripe sunrise slice trickling into your mouth and down your chin is enough to make catholic nuns croon on Father’s Day. Though squeeze a peel into your eye and arise a demon squint from a christened glance.

The disadvantaged of South Africa are very much the same, blood sucking like mosquitoes and sour on the outside like oranges. It might be due to pre-94 debacles or the bitterness of today’s empowerment structures, either way the bittersweetness prevails. There is a myth that black South African’s don’t like to see other black South Africans reaping success. Some may argue that it’s white South Africans don’t like to see black South African’s doing well, but the truth is that here in SA no one who has less than someone else likes to see another person achieving, be it out of hardwork or otherwise. Unfortunately the majority of Southerners come from impoverished backgrounds and nothing bites more than buzzing your arse off to see another mozzie gargling what could have been your piece of the action.

I hate to bitch and moan about injustices that I have no control over as much as I hate to write political metaphorical scenarios about the people I meet everyday. In my ideal world bitter or sweet, people would either love you or stop riding on your ass. Apart of me wishes that we cared more about growing together instead of always cheating each other. In understanding that this isn't a perfect world I can't wish for people to wish the things I fantasise about. Self-serving has become a cyanide like poison under the tongues of people who would rather see themselves prosper before anyone else. There is no such thing as 'Ubuntu'. 'Ubuntu' is a mythological concept that only exists in the memory banks of our minds. Capitalism has taken over and their is simply no way we can go back to living ordinary lives. Under our skin we may wish prosperity for ourselves and others, but our vanity isn't as discreet and honest. Our peel appears just, but in truth it is as dangerous to our sight than is to those who have more than we do.

Its all sugarcoated as fuck! Deal with it.