Thursday, 13 November 2014

Being the bigger person...



There are moments in life when you come face to face with people who just don’t get it. There you are, trying to mind your own business and BOOM! There they are; in your face, in your hair, treading on your toes and just all over the place trying to run your life like it’s their show. You are left with one of two choices – getting into a shouting match with them until you are blue in the face (maybe dark black if you are black like me), or just shake your head and move along with your life to preserve your dignity.
Some people just believe that s/he who shouts loudest, or has nastier words, wins the argument regardless of whether they are right or wrong or whether  their argument is coherent or not. Sometimes we have to be bigger than our bosses at work, our parents, spouses or our children throwing a tantrum. As we go through life, there are circumstances that make us see that we don’t necessarily have to win every argument to feel good about ourselves. Losing an argument is worth nothing in comparison to losing self-respect after being drawn into a stupid confrontation. I believe in standing my ground, but what’s the point of wasting our lung power on a quarrel we can’t win because of the level of understanding of the other party? It’s perfectly OK to sometimes let go and let God.
Sometimes we might argue to prove to our opponent that we are right and they are wrong, that we also have an assortment of bad things to say to them, but after the argument is done, we see that we emerged much smaller by allowing ourselves to stoop to their level. We don’t always have to put in the last word. Occasionally you have to let the other unreasonable person think they have won, just so that their evidently very troubled soul can rest, and so you can also enjoy some peace in your life. At times it’s essential to keep quiet in the face of onslaught from toxic people. Not because you respect them, but because you respect yourself too much to allow them to drag you to their level. But the problem with toxic people like that is they hate to be ignored, they are itching for a fight and when they don’t get that fight, they relentlessly try to rattle your cage so that you can entertain their fatuous nonsense. And that is why you should keep a level head and a shut mouth, difficult as it is, and continue to mind your business while shoving them and their antics in the dust bin of your mind where they belong. You just have to let them find another place to unleash their demons.  As you struggle to not retaliate, you just have to keep the voice in your head chanting, “Be the bigger person, be the bigger person!” Life is too beautiful to waste it trying to understand why some people seem to have been made with the sole purpose in life to pop others’ bubbles.

My 2 Cents on the life and death of Senzo Meyiwa



Just as disgraced top athlete Oscar Pistorius has started his new life as a jail bird for the shooting death of his girlfriend ReevaSteenkamp, and while ShrienDewani is still singing the blues in court for allegedly hiring hit men to shoot his bride Annie Dewani, Orlando Pirates goalkeeper and BafanaBafana skipper is gunned down, purportedly in a robbery.
It’s tear-jerking even for someone like me who doesn’t follow South African soccer. A young, healthy sportsman in the prime of his career and life itself smoked out of the planet just like that. Senzo had a lot to contribute to his nation, his soccer team, his community, and last but not least, his family. His death reminded me of reggae star, LuckyDube’s equally senseless death at the hands of thugs who wanted his car. I wish there was some dungeon somewhere so we could just throw away criminals, somewhere they can never come back from. Hearing horrendous tales like that puts people in a very vulnerable position. It’s outrageous that people have to constantly look over their shoulders on the roads to see if they are going to be accosted by some lunatic. Now they have to also look over their shoulders while having dinner in the comfort of their homes.  What kind of life is that? You start thinking of booby-traps for your doors when you go to bed, check and recheck if everything is secure, and contemplate security upgrades. You are ready to jump out of your skin at the faintest bump in the night.
Senzo’s family, sports people, soccer fans, politicians, and people from all walks of life are dismayed by his death.  True to what happens when someone popular has died, everybody has lovely things to say about Senzo. Wonderful guy, infectious smile, very helpful to his family and community, great team player and captain.
Senzo was a married man who died at his girlfriend, Kelly Khumalo’s house. His wife, Mandisa, and children never got to see him in his last moments of his life. It was a known fact that he wasn’t a faithful person as he openly posed for magazine pictures with Kelly while still married to his wife.The two women in his life once fought on a street somewhere, which resulted in Kelly being charged with assault. Senzo notably took his mistress’ side and said his wife was the one that started the altercation. No, Senzo, you started it by bringing a third person into your marriage. I hold no moral high ground to lambast him for how he lived his life, I have my own blemishes. But I also have an opinion which I’m entitled to express.
As if the court story hadn’t humiliated Mandisa enough, now she has to deal with the public knowledge that her husband met his death while at his girlfriend’s house, that he spent his last moments with the other woman. The humiliation will persist for some time. I foresee Kelly belting one or two songs, or writing a book about her life with Senzo, how he loved her so much, how she treasures their last few hours he spent with her, probably how he took a bullet for her and died in her arms. She wrote a book about her convicted killer ex-boyfriend, JubJub. She could be writing another now.
This story also exposes the double standards that society employs when dealing with men and women. If a married woman of as much high standing as Senzo had died at her boyfriend’s house, her transgressions would have overshadowed whatever good deeds she performed in her living years. The scandal would have stunk like a skunk. 
I won’t go to town about Kelly as a home wrecker, she didn’t have a contract with Mandisa. The one to blame for Mandisa’s humiliation is Senzo. He made a choice to be with another woman while his marriage still subsisted. I’ve heard many sisters accuse other women of taking their husbands, and I don’t subscribe to that line of thinking. No one abducts another’s husband, maybe at knife or gun point, but certainly not at vagina point. Men make a decision to walk – one, two,three – towards another woman. But I digress. My issue here is that a lot is left unsaid when someone like Senzo Meyiwa dies.
I won’t get a lot of love from Buccaneers, but that’s OK. I’m not writing this to get some love. Senzo Meyiwa’s death is a tragic and senseless robbery of a person who had a lot to contribute to the lives of many people. It’s shameful and depressing for South Africa to have such high crime levels, especially gun-related ones. It’s just too sad and words fail me.
Senzo was evidently a very good person to a lot of people. But Senzo was quite rough around the edges. Senzo Meyiwa was an audacious philanderer who juggle women off the field as he juggled balls on the field. It emerged after his death that he had three or four other children with as many women.He cheated on his wife, and by default his children, and broke their hearts.  In one of his last pictures on earth, he’s with his mistress and her sister, having fun. Those pictures are the ones his children with see when they are old enough to look up things online. They will see that he left their mom and spent his last moments with the other woman. In my opinion, that kind of desecrates his memory. A number of women in my circle also had a few words to say about this married man who died at his lover’s house. One friend said if she were confronted with a similar situation, she would just heal her heart with the money that he left, with a little help from a Ben 10. My sister said she just wouldn’t bother to shed her precious tears. And what would I do? I would probably sit in a corner, on the blanket meant for the widow, and request that they dim the lights in that corner. Dim the lights so that I could discreetly dig into a bag of my comfort food, mild Nandos chicken.
How Senzo lived his life, however, won’t change how I feel about the manner in which he died. At the end of the day it is between him and God.  I remain revolted and enraged that his life was taken prematurely. How did human life become so cheap?”
I pray for Senzo’s soul to rest in peace. May the good Lord take care of his loved ones at this very sorrowful time, especially those that depended on him financially. I will be praying that the perpetrators of this atrocity are brought to book and get life imprisonment, since South Africa does not subscribe to the death penalty, so that they never know freedom in their lives ever again. I pray for his wife to find strength to go on, toeventually show her face in public after suffering the humiliation of her husband dying at his girlfriend’s house.