Inspiration...

Love these earrings that Jess is wearing and I.just.cannot.stop.thinking.about.them!!

Entertaining responses to RED...

As we all know, unless you've been safely tucked in a cave, is that one of our cellular service providers has taken the colour red as its new outfit. I won't go into the intrinsics of the campaign to paint the country red, but will show you some tactical responses that caught my attention...

Virgin Active...

Virgin went a simple and almost 'stick our tongue out' route which isn't all that impressive because a lot of brands could claim the same stake - but I guess they also 'said' it first.

Dulux...

This I thought was very clever and tongue in cheek. Bonus point for keeping to their "any colour you can think of" pay off line. Well done Dulux

 I wonder who is getting more attention though - Vodacom (Baby Vodafone) or the brands taking a jibe at the cellular network?

State of mind....

Blue - Leather /  Silver - Metal  / Brown - Straw

I got myself three pairs of earrings a couple weeks ago and for the past few days have been wondering why, in one day, I picked the same coiled shape.
Yes, they each have their differences, but the essence is the same. Straw, leather and metal spirals.
Is my state of mind hinting at the possibility of my life spiraling out of control? I wonder... I wonder....

Lion Matches Ring...

I am in love with Beverley Price. She takes everyday South African brands like Surf, Five Roses tea, Black Cat peanut butter packaging / branding and other popular images and makes the most interesting and cool accessories. He jewelery is unique, fun, striking and light.

Recently bought myself this gorgeous ring from Journey store on Long Street, Cape Town where she stocks her creations.

Lion Matches

As you will see from this picture of my 16 favourite earrings, Bev Price’s stuff features more than once. Love love love.

Now to stalk her and have her make me super exclusive gorgeousness. Best part is that I don’t have to go all the way to Cape Town to get her jewelery as she’s right here in Joburg.

Fly me away....

For my 26^th birthday just over a week ago, I decided to spend the weekend in Cape Town for sun, sea, food, friends and cocktails, oh and of course the Cape Town International Jazz festival which was especially co-ordinated to coincide with my crown birthday celebrations (Thanks ESPAfrika). Anyway, I flew the green low cost airline with the mispronounced name both ways and this is who my letter is directed to.

We all know that these supposed ‘open letters’ have a format – preamble, praise, complaint, diplomatic conclusion or something along those lines. So here goes....

Dear Kulula

After much debating, I elected you as my preferred mode of transport from Johannesburg to Cape Town for an epic weekend away to celebrate my born day weekend towards the end of March 2011.  You won my patronage by having the lowest cost, the fact that I could depart and land at Lanseria airport,  which is thankfully only 20minutes from my house, and finally because I can use my Discovery Vitality for a small but significant discount. You also surprised me by giving me R50 moola when I signed up to be a Jetsetter, which went towards the total discount for my return trip. For all that, I thank you. 

Bow down to you...

You usually have friendly staff members who always have a smile on their faces and this has not changed, at least in my experience with your airline. Your quirky on air exercises are most entertaining, even if a little cheesy. I especially love the cabin crew’s script that takes a funny jab at other airlines and goes something like “remember, mango's are good, but you must have your greens.  We don’t want to see you one time; we want to see you all the time”. Finally, as I mentioned earlier, flying to and from Lanseria is such a breeze because it’s close by. So thanks for making life a little easier and lighter. 

Thorn in my side...

I am not at all a fussy or impatient passenger. I’m a ‘go with the flow’ kind of traveler; which means that very little bothers me, I don’t get irritated easily with the inconveniences of the factors of travel –  i see it all as an experience and as long as I get to where I’m going, I’m okay. So the fact that I am now writing a letter of complaint means you messed up in a big way in my world and I need to address it. 

On Monday 28 March I was booked on the 17:30 flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg on flight MN452 due to arrive at Lanseria Airport at 19:25. I arrived early and checked in using the self check in machine which took all of 30 seconds. While I was purchasing sweet chewy goodies from the confectionary stand I heard over the PA system that the boarding gates had changed, and this change only happened at about 17:10, so in a panicked state i ran to the new boarding gate. 

My boarding pass thingamabob advised that boarding gates would close at 17:20 so it was a little surprising that we had not started boarding at 17:19. There was no information stating any delays or advising us of what was actually halting the process. Finally around 17:25 I saw people standing up from their seats and lining up to have their tickets checked and ushered to the shuttle buses to take us to the green flying machine. At this point, there was still no advisory stating that we were running late even though we all knew there was a glitch. The doors finally closed at 19:45 and the cabin crew welcomed us onto the flight – again, no word on the delay. I think we taxied 5 minutes later and the pilot made some mention that we had been delayed and that we were on our way to Johannesburg. Happy days, but why did it take so long for anyone to say anything? It’s not as though we would have had a riot in the airport because the flight is a few minutes late – but it does help us let the people picking us up on the other side know what’s going on – remember there is no Gautrain at Lanseria!

Yum yum? Not so much...

So as I paged through the hilarious, informative and entertaining copy of your in-flight magazine I noted some heavenly words that had me salivating – “Brought to you by Woolies”. I sent a silent thank you to the heavens and waited patiently for the food cart to come by, ready to have a delicious sarmie from Woolies that I was sure would give my tummy a comforting high five. The cart came by; I parted with my ZA Rands, pulled out my tray table and prepared my mouth for the yumminess coming its way. My first bite enticed a little tear to roll my cheek and I’m pretty sure my tastebuds wanted to have the salty liquid rolling down my face instead of the assault that was happening by way of the Woolies beef and mustard sarmie. Oh my poor heart. Well no, my poor mouth. Well no, my tummy. The travesty that was the soggy mess I bought. 

What a great idea it must have been to offer passengers “quality” food from the superior food supplier but my goodness let’s not forget that whatever crack Woolies pits in their food to keep us happy and loyal customers – it cannot by no means ignore the “fresh” requirement? I don’t even know how old that sammich was but a big bright non-woolies sticker on the packaging claimed it would be great until 30 March. I’m not too sure about that. The bread didn’t have that bouncy softness, the lettuce didn’t even pretend to crunch, the mustard had not only snuggled itself with the bread but it was holding on as if its life depended on it – the mustard might also have been crying because it made the bread its handkerchief. Let’s not even talk about the beef. Basically it looked at me and said “I’m dead, you happy now?” Maybe I shouldn’t have broken the Meat-Free Monday rule. It’s my own fault. A great thing from that though is that the gentleman sitting at the window offered me his window seat to make me feel better. 

Disappointing and heartbreaking. If this Kulula and Woolies marriage is going to last the food better be fresh, otherwise the reasons for divorce will be stated as “defamation of character”. Imagine if that was my first experience of Woolies food? I’d never step into Woolworths Food ever.

As comedic relief at the end of the flight, I got to watch the stairs car thingy get stuck on its way to the front of the airplane and the little guy driving the machine struggle for a few minutes until another staircase machine from nearby zoomed to the rescue. That was funny.

So Kulula, I don’t have a flowery conclusion to this letter so I’m just going to say – get your act together because as your name suggests, it should be “easy” to fly with you. 

Kind regards

Akona

We can't keep him forever...

As we all know there’s been a lot of craziness on the interwebs, social networks, news media,.. actually all over nje about President uTata Dr. Nelson Mandela’s health in the past few days

I just watched the press conference with our acting president and a surprisingly calming surgeon general I didn’t know we even had. Madiba is okay, he is old.

My heart isn’t stable at the moment because I was not worried until I watched them speak about former President and how he is doing. It hit me. We can’t keep him forever. But we can. And we can’t. 

The reality is that this man has given so much and done everything he needs to do, i think, and he is about to have conversations with God. I’m trembling just thinking of that possibility, but it is a reality. At this point I think we all just need to leave him alone to tell his grandchildren stories, the way only old people can. Leave him to laugh with his wife, say goodbye and thank you to his friends and exhale thinking of the life he has had while watching his cows in distant and sipping on green tea. 

Forget the trembling; now the tears are threatening and I don’t trust myself to speak

No offence to Graca, but in my mind, Madiba is still madly in love with and married to the beautiful and awe inspiring woman of strength that is Winnie Mandela. My friend Anele had used this picture as her twitter avatar a few weeks ago and I remember thinking “yes, this is the love I want” and I paused and thanked God that we are able to experience this love at least once in our lifetimes.

We are going to cry, tears we didn’t know we had. We are going to change because we will realise no matter how long a life is lived, it will never seem like enough time. We will gather, and for however long the moment, we will be united. We will praise, for we will never know another being like him. We will strive, because in our mourning and remembrance we will know that we need to either be or raise people who will carry the fire. 

An excerpt from Tumi’s song, Powa,  resonates even more right now – “When Mandela dies, who gon' really care about us?”

The answer to this is, us. Now. Tomorrow and forever, we need to make our home a better place in every aspect otherwise we are saying that Mandela (and crew) lived and died for nothing

To end, #MadibaRocks

We are not saying goodbye yet, but we know we can’t keep him forever

Button / Badge...

Well hello there

Been a minute and a half...

Quick one

Today I decided to wear this cute this heart badge thing that my dear and beautiful friend, Nonkululeko Godana,( MissGods, to you)  got for me many moons ago. Putting it on this morning, I realised I really don't know how to wear these things. It is too high, too low? what does wearing it on the right or left mean? Are there rules to these things, like for example, you shouldn't button the last button on a waistcoat and all and all and all...

What say you?

Pause...

I feel like such a terrible "blogger"

Crazy beautiful crazy month since I last blogged.

#IsaidNo is becoming something bigger than I could have ever imagined - but the start is to break the culture of silence. Look out for www.isaidno.co.za in coming weeks for updates.

Finally got a job. A great one too. Client Service at one of the best agencies in the country. Very exciting

Life has been a rollercoaster. 2010 has been one of the toughest and most brilliant years of my life and I loved and hated it. Wouldn't change a thing about it though, I'll just make better decisions from lessons learnt.

Won't lie, I'm pretty much done with this year. But I will savour every last drop of it.

So much has happened and is happening... Could write a bestseller about this lifetime called twentyten

In the end, and with every passing moment, I am Thankful for love, light, laughter and life.

See you soon!

I said NO.....

I said No…

Before I begin, I'd like to copy and paste a part of a twitter conversation I had that has me now sitting in front on my laptop, cigarette in hand, writing something I never thought I would ever share.

@Akona1: Maybe I'm just a girl standing in front of the virtual world asking it to help me help the real world…

To which a friend whose opinion I respect implicitly responded:

"We live in times that require strength; you'll have to tap into what makes you a strong woman and march us forward."

Twitter's brilliance is the 140-character limit per tweet (less when you reply / @ someone), however, it is too limiting at times. So I have a little story to tell you. A story I've never told so publicly, a story begging to be written because something has to be said and done, a story I hope will make a difference, no matter how small.

It was January 23rd of the year 2000, 6 months after the passing of my beloved mother, I was 15 and in standard 7 of high school. It was a few hours after one of the school's interhouse swimming galas and some friends and fellow swimmers, cheerleaders and school mates had gathered for a little braai at a friend's house nearby. There was music, swimming, food, dancing, laughing and drinking. I'd arrived at the house a little later than most of the guests as I had to do some admin at school before leaving and when I arrived the gathering was in full swing with about 40 or so people having a good time in the sun.

The first half an hour or so I spent chatting to some friends, played a little soccer in the medium sized backyard with some of the boys, most especially because I wanted to get the attention of this older boy I had had a crush on. At some we went and sat down under a tree and chatted – I was cool, calm and cute with my heart fluttering with every word that sang out of his mouth.

After a few minutes, one of his friends joined us and offered me a beer. I'd tasted alcohol before and was not opposed to it, but I was not interested in having the beer he was adamant I should have. With some back on forth regarding my not wanting it, he got up and left with it but then returned with a cider. I took it and drank it and we continued to talk and laugh under the tree. About half way through the drink I wasn't feeling good at all, dizzy and nauseous, I thought that being out in the sun and the days activities were weighing down on me so I excused myself went inside the house to use the bathroom. It was occupied, as I turned around to try and find another loo the friend, lets him R, was standing very close to me stroking my arm and told me that there was a bathroom outside by the maids quarter that I could use if I didn't want to wait. I followed him, letting him guide my faint self and my wobbly legs outside.

At the entrance to the bathroom, the boy I had been crushing on was standing at the door and I thought it was so sweet of him to be there to see if I was alright. R led me inside and suddenly the door shut with a bang and he was in there with me. Slurring my words, I asked that he please give me some privacy and he said he wanted to make sure I'd be okay. I tried to open the unlocked door, but the handle wouldn't move. I was confused, was it stuck? Was crush boy holding it so that I wouldn't be able to open. Then a moment is realisation dawned on me. It wasn't the heat that was getting to me, something was very very wrong.

R turned me around and started kissing my neck and face, my weak arms tried to push him away and with all the saliva I could muster I spat in his face and my dry mouth fought to say the word I knew would stop this madness. No. At first it came out as a whisper and I could not believe my voice was failing me at such a crucial moment. Again, I tried, No. This time the venom I needed carried through and his hands, which were now on my budding breasts, stopped mid grope and I sighed in victory.

The room was spinning, my heart was hammering at my chest and my legs were about to give in when I was jolted into shock, as he had reached under skirt and frantically tugging at my underwear. No wasn't getting me anywhere. I said it again, I pushed as hard as I could, and my final words were "don't do this, I'm on my period". I saw the glint in his eye; he licked his lips and turned me around to face the wall. He ripped off my panties and as I looked down, my bloody tampon was lying there, staring back up at me. Tears rolled down cheeks and joined the blood keeping my tampon company.

R giggled and said he loved when a woman was menstruating and I could feel his penis getting hard against me and all I was thinking was that I was just a girl, and he was about to force me into womanhood. He pushed me to the ground in the corner of the bathroom. There were some planks and nails and broken tiles that hurt my back, and as he mounted me I was ever so grateful for the pain on my back which was helping me not to concentrate on the burning sensation coming from him entering me.

Minutes passed and he got off, got up, zipped him pants, bent down and kissed me on the forehead. I closed my eyes expecting crushboy to enter and have his way with me too, but there was silence. I lay there for a long time.

When I finally opened my eyes it was getting dark. I got up, cleaned myself up in the basin, cleaned the blood of the floor, tied a knot into my panties and put them on. Used some toilet paper as a makeshift pad so as not to soil myself. I left the house and walked home.

Went to school the next day and didn't say anything to anyone about what had happened. Why? I didn't want to be a statistic, I didn't want to give him the power to make me a victim, I didn't want to feel any more ashamed than I did and I didn't want anyone's pity. I wanted to believe that I am stronger.

In my head, I had a long life ahead of me and I was going to live it, without the stigma of being a survivor. It took me years to even say it to myself – I was raped. My innocence was gone. To this day, at 25 years of age, I still struggle to call myself a woman – because of how 'becoming a woman' happened. Never even told my boyfriend, years later, that he was in fact not my first.

It is now November of the year 2010, and rape is in the headlines every day, there seems to be more victims than there are not, some as young as a year old. Most recently, a 15-year-old girl was drugged and raped, in front of her school mates, on school property, her rape was recorded on cellphones and spread around her school. First the police refused to arrest the offenders because they did not want to interrupt they boys while writing their exams, then her teachers said she deserved to raped because she was drunk and now, the National Prosecuting Authority dropped the charges against the rapists because they say there is not enough evidence.

One in nine rapes are reported. When this one, with video evidence and witnesses cannot be prosecuted, what hope do victims who are raped in dirty bathrooms have?

I'm telling this story not because I want your pity, I'm telling you because I need your help to do something about this. I need help to get justice for all the victims, whether we know about them or not. I need to help to change the entitlement of our patriarchal society. I need help to say enough is enough. I said NO.

Let's march, Let's Shout, Let's petition, whatever! Let us please do something.

Akona.ndungane@gmail.com

I just want to scream....

Yes, I haven't blogged in a long time...
On one hand, I'm sorry and on the other I think keeping things to myself isn't necessarily a terrible thing.
A good friend always says "self preservation is a noble instinct."

I don't know if this shut down- feel sorry for myself- want to bang my head against a wall - hopelessness - anxiety - lonely feeling - alone -confused - angry- completely lost state of being- not wanting to talk to anyone thing is healthy. What am I talking about? Of course it's not.

Back to the point- I haven't blogged! Damnit!
I haven't had anything to say, I still don't.
Just want to scream. So I will.

Wouldn't even know where to begin expressing the frustration. So I won't.
Just want to scream. So I will.

Forgive me Friends, it has been a while since my last blog confession...
It's been a rollercoaster and a half and I haven't yet even absorbed it all myself.

Wherever you are, raise a glass and wish me luck, light, love and laughter. Sure as hell need it.

I'll be back when the pity party is over. Maybe you can share some hangover remedies...