Opinion / Columnist
This and that with Maluphosa - L'febe
18 Dec 2011 at 11:03hrs | Views
What were you up to last Aids day?
We were at some park, contemplating launching i-burial society. The focus and emphasis shifted drastically to women and child abuse, and how we were going to contribute in fighting the scourge in our small sphere of influence. Sqhezema was his usual phlegmatic, melancholic self; seemingly unfocussed and defeated, as we discussed our understanding and experience of abuse. He had arrived late for the launch; time-management has never been one of his strengths. He had amused a lot of people on his arrival; drenched in tears of old stinking sweat, unkempt and ekleze impisi. His floppy, stretch marks adorned umkhaba protruded from the lower brim of a distressed 'Scandal Cares' T-shirt, making him look like the cartoon of a talkative suckling cow standing on its hind legs.
After a few persistent prods from Siza, Sqhezema opened up; he had slept in the toilet. His wife wanted to 'soak' him, as she had put it, in boiling cooking oil. They had argued throughout the good part of the night, about her looking for a job as a sex worker as soon it becomes a profession in its own right. Having failed to convince him, she went straight to plan B – amafutha abilayo. Somehow Sqhezema realized that he was about to be fried alive. He sneaked into the mosquito infested toilet, where he spent the night. He sneaked out again in the morning, and came to witness the launch of the burial society. He had in his hand an old, crumpled newspaper cutting that he kept looking at. It was from the local paper, 'The Star'. Dee snatched it, scanned through it and announced that might be the source of Sqhezema's troubles!
Abuse is not only perpetrated by men upon women and children. There is abuse of a kind that people do not always want to talk about; the abuse of men by women. It is so prevalent the statistics are shocking. But for unknown reasons, it is either not reported, un-believed, not followed up or simply ridiculed. Look how big Shezema is! He is such a gigantic mythological creature. And the wife? She weighs less than half of Sqhezema. But she is such a fearless, disrespectful dictator that her man is even scared of leaving. 'She would go into 'search and destroy' mode as soon as I leave her, and I will be history.'
There is also a lot of abuse of women by other women, and it is the most intriguing. Women are very emotional. Have you wondered why they are the ones who always cry e-church? They don't just argue; they settle their quarrels ngokubamba ngenwele, ngama pant, or lifting their opponent's skirts to show the public their foe's dirty secrets, before engaging into a winner-take-all competition of inhlamba about izitho zabo. O-house girl bahlutshwa ngobani? Reminds me of this child who told her mother;'Father came back from work, pulled the house girl into the bedroom, wamluma wamluma wamwisela embhedeni wamtshaya ngesisu.' Well, this is not the abuse we are talking about. We mean the one where --- But ok'salayo, abafazi abuse one another more than they are abused by the male species. And they still want to be treated as if global warming affects only them.
And, how does one explain the relationship between legalizing ubufebe and the spread of HIV? Dee thinks at one point, even simple cigarettes might have been illegal. Did legalizing them check the spread of cancer and all the other hideous diseases associated with smoking? Not a chance! But Sqhezema's problem was trying to under stand where legalizing prostitution leaves families. Already, his wife has told him that because he is such a worthless excuse of a bread-winner, she would look for a job in the sex industry so she can live the life she has always wanted. She says Sqhezema will not stop her because she will be doing something esemthethweni.
Siza says she can already imagine omama belok'shini out-shouting one another; 'Ivimu, ulude, idelele, le---.' Well, isemthethweni. And ubaba can run out to get some, if he wants some, right in front of the wife and the children, on the matrimonial home and bed, in broad day-light. No one can be arrested for buying bread. And umama can apply to the manager;
'I beg to apply for a position as a Kuku seller in your company. I do not have much experience as a sfebe, but I have been married for the past 25 years. I have seen how those girls in the street do it, and it does not look too difficult. In all the years I have been married, I have never been disloyal or unfaithful to my husband. He is the one who has been a desperate infidel and loser, with children scattered all over the universe like dull twinkly stars.
I am not sure if you are looking for any special attributes in your recruits, such as beauty, which I used to have in abundance in my teens. I also want to bring my 12 year old daughter there so she can start working too. She reminds me of myself when I was her age. I doubt if she has any experience regarding ezocansi, but she is an ardent and bright student who passed her test on Reproduction with 90 percent mark. I must add that her beauty, ambition and zeal are unparalleled by any in her age group. Waiting to hear from you soon. And here is my photo and that of my daughter. Please do not tell her I applied on her behalf; it is meant to be a surprise. Good night.'
Dee assured Sqhezema his wife would not secure any job as anything in the sex industry because she is simply a gorgon; so please stop mourning! He changed the subject, making an observation about the stigma associated with HIV, which he thought was worse than the disease itself. Some people, after so many years of living within HIV, still call the infected all sorts of names, effectively disarming those trying to courageously fight the disease. They diagnose you once you lose weight, have alopecia, develop simple eczema, feel faint, or suffer from migraine or up-set tummy. 'La, sokuhanjwa la!' They whisper, pointing at their subject with their head, elbow or thumb. But the truth about this condition, unlike icala where you are innocent until proven guilty, is that you are guilty until proven innocent. Until you get tested, you can never say for sure that you are clean. And even then, just as tests will lie and tell you that you are positive, they can still lie and tell you that you are negative. Even on face-book people make all sorts of terrifying comments about the bed-ridden. Where is our sympathy, guys? Lamhla yimi, k'sasa nguwe, goes a song that we used to sing when we were still toddlers. Is it the way you would like to be treated when it is your turn?And, surely, your turn will come.
Ngiyabonga mina!
We were at some park, contemplating launching i-burial society. The focus and emphasis shifted drastically to women and child abuse, and how we were going to contribute in fighting the scourge in our small sphere of influence. Sqhezema was his usual phlegmatic, melancholic self; seemingly unfocussed and defeated, as we discussed our understanding and experience of abuse. He had arrived late for the launch; time-management has never been one of his strengths. He had amused a lot of people on his arrival; drenched in tears of old stinking sweat, unkempt and ekleze impisi. His floppy, stretch marks adorned umkhaba protruded from the lower brim of a distressed 'Scandal Cares' T-shirt, making him look like the cartoon of a talkative suckling cow standing on its hind legs.
After a few persistent prods from Siza, Sqhezema opened up; he had slept in the toilet. His wife wanted to 'soak' him, as she had put it, in boiling cooking oil. They had argued throughout the good part of the night, about her looking for a job as a sex worker as soon it becomes a profession in its own right. Having failed to convince him, she went straight to plan B – amafutha abilayo. Somehow Sqhezema realized that he was about to be fried alive. He sneaked into the mosquito infested toilet, where he spent the night. He sneaked out again in the morning, and came to witness the launch of the burial society. He had in his hand an old, crumpled newspaper cutting that he kept looking at. It was from the local paper, 'The Star'. Dee snatched it, scanned through it and announced that might be the source of Sqhezema's troubles!
Abuse is not only perpetrated by men upon women and children. There is abuse of a kind that people do not always want to talk about; the abuse of men by women. It is so prevalent the statistics are shocking. But for unknown reasons, it is either not reported, un-believed, not followed up or simply ridiculed. Look how big Shezema is! He is such a gigantic mythological creature. And the wife? She weighs less than half of Sqhezema. But she is such a fearless, disrespectful dictator that her man is even scared of leaving. 'She would go into 'search and destroy' mode as soon as I leave her, and I will be history.'
There is also a lot of abuse of women by other women, and it is the most intriguing. Women are very emotional. Have you wondered why they are the ones who always cry e-church? They don't just argue; they settle their quarrels ngokubamba ngenwele, ngama pant, or lifting their opponent's skirts to show the public their foe's dirty secrets, before engaging into a winner-take-all competition of inhlamba about izitho zabo. O-house girl bahlutshwa ngobani? Reminds me of this child who told her mother;'Father came back from work, pulled the house girl into the bedroom, wamluma wamluma wamwisela embhedeni wamtshaya ngesisu.' Well, this is not the abuse we are talking about. We mean the one where --- But ok'salayo, abafazi abuse one another more than they are abused by the male species. And they still want to be treated as if global warming affects only them.
And, how does one explain the relationship between legalizing ubufebe and the spread of HIV? Dee thinks at one point, even simple cigarettes might have been illegal. Did legalizing them check the spread of cancer and all the other hideous diseases associated with smoking? Not a chance! But Sqhezema's problem was trying to under stand where legalizing prostitution leaves families. Already, his wife has told him that because he is such a worthless excuse of a bread-winner, she would look for a job in the sex industry so she can live the life she has always wanted. She says Sqhezema will not stop her because she will be doing something esemthethweni.
Siza says she can already imagine omama belok'shini out-shouting one another; 'Ivimu, ulude, idelele, le---.' Well, isemthethweni. And ubaba can run out to get some, if he wants some, right in front of the wife and the children, on the matrimonial home and bed, in broad day-light. No one can be arrested for buying bread. And umama can apply to the manager;
'I beg to apply for a position as a Kuku seller in your company. I do not have much experience as a sfebe, but I have been married for the past 25 years. I have seen how those girls in the street do it, and it does not look too difficult. In all the years I have been married, I have never been disloyal or unfaithful to my husband. He is the one who has been a desperate infidel and loser, with children scattered all over the universe like dull twinkly stars.
I am not sure if you are looking for any special attributes in your recruits, such as beauty, which I used to have in abundance in my teens. I also want to bring my 12 year old daughter there so she can start working too. She reminds me of myself when I was her age. I doubt if she has any experience regarding ezocansi, but she is an ardent and bright student who passed her test on Reproduction with 90 percent mark. I must add that her beauty, ambition and zeal are unparalleled by any in her age group. Waiting to hear from you soon. And here is my photo and that of my daughter. Please do not tell her I applied on her behalf; it is meant to be a surprise. Good night.'
Dee assured Sqhezema his wife would not secure any job as anything in the sex industry because she is simply a gorgon; so please stop mourning! He changed the subject, making an observation about the stigma associated with HIV, which he thought was worse than the disease itself. Some people, after so many years of living within HIV, still call the infected all sorts of names, effectively disarming those trying to courageously fight the disease. They diagnose you once you lose weight, have alopecia, develop simple eczema, feel faint, or suffer from migraine or up-set tummy. 'La, sokuhanjwa la!' They whisper, pointing at their subject with their head, elbow or thumb. But the truth about this condition, unlike icala where you are innocent until proven guilty, is that you are guilty until proven innocent. Until you get tested, you can never say for sure that you are clean. And even then, just as tests will lie and tell you that you are positive, they can still lie and tell you that you are negative. Even on face-book people make all sorts of terrifying comments about the bed-ridden. Where is our sympathy, guys? Lamhla yimi, k'sasa nguwe, goes a song that we used to sing when we were still toddlers. Is it the way you would like to be treated when it is your turn?And, surely, your turn will come.
Ngiyabonga mina!
Source - Clerk Ndlovu
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