#SpeakZA: Bloggers for a Free Press

Last week, shocking revelations concerning the activities of the ANC Youth League spokesperson Nyiko Floyd Shivambu came to the fore. According to a letter published in various news outlets, a complaint was laid by 19 political journalists with the Secretary General of the ANC, against Shivambu. This complaint letter detailed attempts by Shivambu to leak a dossier to certain journalists, purporting to expose the money laundering practices of Dumisani Lubisi, a journalist at the City Press. The letter also detailed the intimidation that followed when these journalists refused to publish these revelations.

We condemn in the strongest possible terms the reprisals against journalists by Shivambu. His actions constitute a blatant attack on media freedom and a grave infringement on Constitutional rights. It is a disturbing step towards dictatorial rule in South Africa. We call on the ANC and the ANC Youth League to distance themselves from the actions of Shivambu. The media have, time and again, been a vital democratic safeguard by exposing the actions of individuals who have abused their positions of power for personal and political gain.

The press have played a vital role in the liberation struggle, operating under difficult and often dangerous conditions to document some of the most crucial moments in the struggle against apartheid. It is therefore distressing to note that certain people within the ruling party are willing to maliciously target journalists by invading their privacy and threatening their colleagues in a bid to silence them in their legitimate work.

We also note the breathtaking hubris displayed by Shivambu and the ANC Youth League President Julius Malema in their response to the letter of complaint. Shivambu and Malema clearly have no respect for the media and the rights afforded to the media by the Constitution of South Africa. Such a response serves only to reinforce the position that the motive for leaking the so-called dossier was not a legitimate concern, but a insolent effort to intimidate and bully a journalist who had exposed embarrassing information about the Youth League President.

We urge the ANC as a whole to reaffirm its commitment to media freedom and other Constitutional rights we enjoy as a country.

What can you do? To show your solidarity with 'Bloggers for a Free Press' please email this article or link as is, including blog roll. RT ref #SpeakZA


Blog Roll...


http://thoughtleader.co.za/siphohlongwane
http://rwrant.co.za
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/munadia/
http://vocfm.co.za/blogs/shafiqmorton/
http://blogs.news24.com/needpoint
http://capetowngirl.co.za
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sentletsediakanyo
http://thoughtleader.co.za/davidjsmith
http://letterdash.com/one-eye-only
http://boyuninterrupted.blogspot.com
http://amandasevasti.com
http://blog.empyrean.co.za/
http://letterdash.com/brencro
http://6000.co.za
http://chrisroper.co.za
http://pieftw.com
http://hamishpillay.wordpress.com
http://memoirs4kimya.blogspot.com
http://thoughtleader.co.za/azadessa
http://watkykjy.co.za
http://fredhatman.co.za
http://thelifeanddeathchronicles.blogspot.com/
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/common-dialogue/
http://www.clivesimpkins.blogs.com/
http://mashadutoit.wordpress.com
http://nicharalambous.com
http://sarocks.co.za
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/stompies/
http://helenmoffett.book.co.za/blog/
http://01universe.blogspot.com
http://groundwork.worpress.com
http://iwrotethisforyou.me
http://fionasnyckers.book.co.za
http://attentiontodetail.wordpress.com
http://blogs.women24.com/editor
http://www.missmillib.blogspot.com
http://snowgoose.co.za
http://dreamfoundry.co.za
http://www.vanoodle.blogspot.com
http://www.exmi.co.za
http://cat-dubai.blogspot.com
http://alistairfairweather.com
http://www.zanedickens.com
http://www.nickhuntdavis.com
http://guysa.blogspot.com
http://book.co.za
http://baldy.co.za
http://skinnylaminx.com
http://blogs.african-writing.com/zukiswa
http://www.mielie.wordpress.com
http://blogs.timeslive.co.za/gatherer/
http://thoughtleader.co.za/sarahbritten
http://stii.co.za
http://blogs.news24.com/FSB_AP
http://twistedkoeksuster.blogspot.com
http://whensmokegetsinyoureyes.blogspot.com/
http://trinklebean.wordpress.com
http://commentry.wordpress.com/
http://matthewbuckland.com
http://blogs.news24.com/colour-me-fran
http://gormendizer.co.za

http://ravingfans.co.za
http://khadijapatel.co.za
http://moralfibre.co.za
http://www.missmillib.blogspot.com

Top 50 Blogs: in humanity

I'm having a pretty random day. And so a random search for my blog brought me to discover this:

Apparently, SoapBox Shafinaaz makes some random list by NetworkedBlogs as number 19 on the Top 50 Blogs: in humanity.

I had no idea that such a thing existed. Nor was I notified.
But it's obviously some part of the Networks way of marketing readable blogs at various stages; making blogs known to the rest of the blogosphere, and to pretty much the rest of the virtual surfers out there... What I am curious about is the criteria involved in making this assessment. The social scientist in me wants to know :P

In related news, "Memoirs For Kimya", the blog-to-book, is having an inspired new year so far :D

I'm the one that's at a loss for words, for the most part.
Yes, stranger things do occur.

Peaceful thoughts to all...

S

My Odyssey with George Bizos

I met George Bizos today. As my car inched its way into the basement of the building that houses his offices, Braam Fischer House, I played the rehearsed meeting over and over in my mind. My readings told me all I needed to know about the encounter I was about to make: the man needs very little introduction as the human rights lawyer of the apartheid struggle along with an incredible string of accolade that rolls off a tape measure of milestones and accomplishments. But I still didn't know, or have an idea of the man I was about to meet. Or the reception that awaited me.

Who is George Bizos? A Google search will tell you much of what you need to know... WhosWho@24.com. A face to face encounter will allow you to search the eyes of a kind soul, to see into the light of a gentleman of the world. I was at ease as he began his chat, informally, by his own admission, in an office walled with leather bound journals and archives of his professional nurturing. I asked about his work, his influence and his life. I got asked about my own. He spoke animatedly about Greek food, the Ottoman Empire and the apartheid struggle; he stood counsel on numerous cases concerning the Group Areas Act, as well as the infamous Rivonia Trial (under which Mandela and Sisulu and a host of others were tried for treason) and the Delmas Trial (under which e.g. Terror Lekota was tried).

Bizos at almost 81 is of fine memory and incredible spirit. His words deliberate, eyes twinkle with merriment as the stories from the past reveal themselves first to him, and then to me. I am mesmerized by the sheer energy of light that emanates as he speaks of past and present; digging memories of significant trials and tactics of the freedom struggle, and of his contemporaries, especially the protagonist of my biography, Maulvi IA Cachalia. He was a 'tactician', he repeated after each rendering of one or two examples of particular trials that they discussed and managed around the unjust legalities of the time.

Of course, as we moved on to talking about baclava, chai (my favourite; Bizos prefers kahve) and biryani (apparently the Greek word for it is very similar), appetites and memories were enticed to an anecdote about samoosa's in the Heidelberg trial, another example of the Group Area's Act tug-of-war.

The scribbling and doodling of his fountain pen (in Greek letters nonetheless) still follow my mind as he chatted with that shiny gleam in his eye. I can see the sparkle of eye mirrored in smile, still. I doodle too. It jogs memory and muse. The interview transcript will reveal all the technical details ('The machine must tell the story' - Bizos) for later analysis. For now I am basking in the measure of a morning spent on the ninth floor of a city centre office in Johannesburg, with a man who is most certainly an institution in his own right.

'S'


Books By George Bizos: No One To Blame? - In Pursuit Of Justice In South Africa (1998); and Odyssey to Freedom (2007)

love, labour, lost

crime hurts in ways that we can no longer measure. all those stats that insist on the 'greatest crime capital' badges that make some people smile in pleasure at the accolade, are worth nothing compared to that extended realm of devastation. on thursday, a friend of mine left a sweet birthday message for me at facebook. sometime yesterday, mom told me that she had been kidnapped from her city of residence in Durban on the east coast, bundled into the back of a delivery vehicle and transported to Gauteng overnight, where they finally located her early yesterday. (-this all happened on thursday night-)

i need to remember to breathe at this point... it upsets me so much!

of course, i am glad that she has been found, and that she is ok. adding to the unfortunate incident is the fact that she is pregnant. but still, she is ok. physically ok. but i cannot begin to imagine the trauma. this whole thing should never have happened!!!

Kareem Salama: Generous Peace

Shhhhhh... Don't speak!

There are different kinds of silences. Sometimes, silence is like that clear pond that makes you want to look into its forever and ever kind of depths. It is still and deep and whole. It reminds you that you're linked in that still moment, to the beginning of time. It has that eternal feel about it. Sometimes, silence is a slap on the face. A gross act of retaliation. Nothing short of violence.

Mumbai's aftermath is a grating silence. The calm after the storm, so to speak. A symbol of shocking numb. The city is at a standstill. The problem with each of these varying kinds and degrees of silence is not in their base intentions or the reactive nature with which it may have begun. It is when silence is taken as a reason to point fingers and when it is seen as a weakness by those who will manipulate the space thus cultivated by it. It happens in the most petty instances. Politicians move in where there is panic, hoping to garner support for the next election. Other's with selfish intent use the space for silence as a tool to nurture their grab-all mentality.

In most cases thats what it comes down to; this warring for space and the right to impose ideals and ideologies on the world at large comes from a twisted kind of scarcity-consciousness. The mines-mines-mines mentality of the voyeuristic me-me-me.

Like I said, it happens in grave situations, and it happens in the most petty instances. Sometimes hundreds of lives are affected; other times only one or two. But it happens. And it hurts. It really does.

I don't know much about crisis management. And I have yet to fully embrace constructive grieving processes and networks of support. But I know this much: People who have that scarcity consciousness, who imagine that they should feel threatened by a particular status quo and who feel righted to upturn it in grossly violating ways, need to be weeded out from the thriving gardens of spirit and humanity that the rest of the conscious world wishes to cultivate.

And a momentary silence doesn't mean defeat; or admonishment. It is a moment to reflect. A time to grieve, and a reason to stand together and create those shifts in consciousness and infrastructure that will secure the future.

Silence isn't 'doing nothing'. It is healing. The calm before a revolutionary storm. At some point, all hypocrisy must die. Enough is enough. Eventually, only whats real will preside. The winds of change will make certain of it.

Colaba under Curfew

In all my travels, one of the cities that has most wound its way into the sinews of my heart is Mumbai in India. I first travelled to India in 1994. Dad wanted to reminisce his journey with Mum back in '79, when he could afford to take her out of the country on vacation for the first time. They spent some three months roaming the length and breadth of the beautiful Bharat. In all my years, I have heard myriad stories of them traveling through the night, sleeping on trains and traversing the grand expanse of the land of their forefathers. We have been subjected to long hours of looking at literally hundreds of slides played on whichever of the walls of the house we happened to be living in was free of furniture or framing. These are accompanied by hours of commentary from dad, additions and or corrections by mum and the sound of Rafi Sahb or Kishore Da in the background just to make sure we captured the correct mood. My great-grandmother's were sisters. And so, back then, they went out to meet the only living third sister; they marveled at her tiny but incredibly clean living space and her wonderful charm and warmth. And so, fifteen years later, we were to make our first trip as a family, to recapture some of that ambience. What I knew about India was peppered with stories from Bollywood. I could sing-along to all of my parent's favourite tunes and quote from their epic oldies such as Mother India and Pakeezah. My first impression was implorable. The stench of the place, knocked us over in an all too eager greeting. The heat all but defeated us just as we got out of the aircraft. A taxi-walla carted us from the airport towards Colaba where we were meant to be staying. (Dad wanted to stay at the Natraj; this was before the Intercontinental revamp- Gladly shortlived by the rat parade). We had to stop for fuel at a petrol station. It was April. The sweltering heat played tricks with our vision; a steam seemed to rise out of the ground. And here and there, potholes were filled with murky water. All of this seemed relatively innocent. Stopped at the fueling place, I rolled down my window in a bid to give this place of many stories a chance to make its impression on my imaginative minds eye. I didn't have time to regret the decision or to make amends by closing the creaky glass. A swarm of mosquitoes quickly invaded the interior of the car. Air osmosis is such a thing! I was only learning about such things as a high school hopeful, not quite graduated from such institutions.
What did I want to do? Daddy, I want to go home! I squealed. Dear sweet dad was delighted at the entertainment. Welcome to India, everyone. Mum giggled. They exchanged smiles and glances. We rolled eyes.

But then we drove into the depths of this dark city. We saw the crumbling infrastructure and tasted the unflinching conviction of the people. We heard the cries of feisty streetchildren, some better entrepreneurs than New Yorks best. And we were humbled. We were hooked. I bet at that stage already, we were sworn devotees. Pilgrimage has become an affair of heart, mind and soul. Speaking of which, Haji Ali Dhargah and Mahim Dhargah are frequent visit sites. Each have a story to tell. But thats for another post.

Needless to say, I have been back to India almost a dozen times since. I have attended weddings filled with some seven thousand people. I have returned with armfuls of books and shoppers delights, memories and photographs of wonders shared and felt in this city of cities. I have walked its streets and rubbed shoulders with its vast populace. I have felt the seasoned Mumbaikar if only for a hopeful time. In this little love affair, I have ravaged the pages of Shantaram and Maximum City to quench my thirst for more about this pulsating place. I have danced in the scorching heat and brought back souvenir tans, and have been drenched in the monsoon rains numerous times. And I have loved every minute of it. A planned trip back there makes my heart skip a beat or two. I was due back there, save for a wave of attacks last night that has left a city of many heartbeats under a shocking curfew. Colaba never sleeps. Mumbai rocks on like the diva of energy that she is. Until now, that is. Colaba is under curfew. Schools didn't open today. Construction came to a standstill. People stayed indoors. A city grieved the communal death of the freedom to breathe in safety. Mortality stares us in the face, just one more time. Mumbai's heart has just skipped a very long beat. I never thought I'd see the day.

Just imagine if you were walking in Nelson Mandela Square in Sandton, or on the Durban beachfront, or at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town or any of South Africa's city centres, and a range of grenades were spewed around you. Just imagine. What would happen? Violation is rife everyday, in every sphere of our lives. This sort of thing is that n-th dimension we don't want to think about. Rather relegate it to something that 'only happens in the movies'. BUT JUST WHAT IF??!!

Provoked

What does it take for a woman of modest bearing, to wait till the quiet hours of the night until her husband of ten years is sound asleep, and to douse him in a carefully prepared mixture of cooking oil and other household flammable liquids, and then to drop a flaming candle at his feet, and watch in horror, and relief as the flames sieze and engulf his screaming frame!?

What does it take?

Insanity is a gleaming and rather self-righteous label designed by the self-acclaimed 'sane' and an appeasing banner to the designated who must wear it as a yoke. Why must some plead insanity to obtain justice? Or rather, as a human right's activist in the movie suggests, 'Why must women plead insanity to obtain justice, while men need only lose their tempers for the same?'

'Provoked' is the name of the movie that profiles a young Punjabi woman's plight to restore her dignity from within the confines of an abusive marriage, and in an act of being driven to temporary irrational insanity, she sets her husband on fire. He dies after some days in hospital. She is charged. This, she maintains, is her first taste of freedom.

Battered wife syndrome is, as a result of her case, a legally recognised condition.

Abuse is a messy subject, and many people will shy away from the indications to take the topic by the horns and do real battle with it. How do we break the cycle? We engage in abuse and are abused every other day when we choose to ascribe labels on each other, and when we carry those with which we might be branded. Where does it all stop? And how?

Adams Eve and Wunderbra...

On Notions of Original Sin and Contested Gendered Power

August being Women’s month saw a resurgence of numerous extended gender debate and dialogue around South Africa. One example in particular was the conference in Cape Town held by the Confederation of South African Workers Unions (Consawu) and its some 27 affiliates. The conference culminated with a march to parliament where a petition of rights and proposals was presented. In addition, a booklet was released that identifies human dignity, equality, slavery, and child and forced labour as well as issues and rights affecting women in the workplace in general, and the constitutional rights of domestic workers in particular.

Just recently, I debated the notions of gender and equality using the contested example of Original Sin, with a self-acclaimed free thinking individual who suggested that perhaps it was Eves feminist urge that spurred her on to take a bite out of the apple. And that, by inference, Adam was then easily persuaded to giving in to the temptation. If women are to take negative credence as asserted by Eve partaking in the forbidden fruit, then this, it turns out is certainly no tribute to men either.

If, at the basis of patriarchy is the eternally perceived sin of Eve in engaging the forbidden fruit, and enticing Adam to partake in the same, one might ask a rather obvious question (and often we lose sight of the obvious), i.e. why was Adam silent in all of this? Must Adam be assumed a passive compliant without the basis for rationale and beyond the knowledge of right and wrong? And so the story goes. The universal femme fatale is given credence. By manmade inference, the silence of Adam is understood to have been divinely sanctioned. And the sacred texts are thus convoluted by patriarchal explication. History is writ as a conclusive script. And both men and women are cast in their respective roles, playing out convenient stereotypes well in advance, to keenly encourage their non-subversion from the status quo.

And what exactly does this all mean for contemporary gender debates. My first response to labels in general and that of feminist in particular is: there is a wariness with which we might assume that Eve was a feminist. From that stems the spirit of a dizzying array of questions. Can it be argued that women are inbred with a feminist urge? And more succinctly, what is it to be a politically correct feminist? Labels have long been employed as the dividing tool; political strategy and political aptness a see-saw debate. In asking whether or not Eve was feminist, it might be imperative to ask whether or not she would fit into the image of the much debated fifties bra-burning activist or the contemporary Wunderbra revolutionary. My point is that, are we indeed moving onward to a more holistic and embraced notion of the female role in society. Contemporary women identify more responsively to an engaged femininity. So then we are accosted with a number of further interrogations: Should Adam have stood up for Eve? Was Adam meant to at least make a stand for himself so as to not engage in sin? Did Eve indeed take a bite to assert feminism? And, finally dare we assume at all that Eve was a feminist?

The measure upon which to decide is whether or not the Adam/Eve biblical metaphor serves as an adequate gender framework for contemporary relationship dynamics and if it does indeed transfer along historical and archetypal memory as a continued script. Human growth must proceed towards a fully realized potential, and this cannot be achieved without an equal platform of psychological and social encouragement for individuals of both genders. A mutually beneficial framework needs to be asserted within the social network in general and the relationship sphere in particular in order to maintain this encouragement, and this requires a relearning of many prior and deeply entrenched socialization features that inherently feed both mouths of the twin-headed monster of male domination and female subordination.

Lets face it, a self-respecting Adam, should have stood up for himself. And not quite so simply succumbed to temptation. And if he did, then universal heirs of the victim persona should not be passing blame. Indeed, what a waste this would be if Eve did, in fact, take a small bite for womankind. The challenges facing women in the socio-economic sphere are yet to be ironed out, and gendered spaces made a uniform place of opportunity for one and all. In order to ensure this, we must begin by questioning our pretexts, our understanding of male and female roles in society, and by unearthing our deepest set prejudices.