I’ve heard, more than once, Oprah say something like: the only thing better than having something you like is sharing it. If Oprah says something, it must be true. Ha! No, seriously. A big part of why I love to talk to musicians is selfish. I am genuinely curious, so I ask. But an even bigger part of why I love to talk to musicians is the fact that I get to share that with all of you. When people were still reading, it brought me joy to share through...
My aunt has an eidetic memory. She’s super sensitive and really, a softie. It was my birthday last month and she called to wish me a fantastic one. The call was brief, even with her bringing up the kinds of things kids roll their eyes at, even though they tickle the adult who remembers the details. And of course, she was reminiscing on things Toddler Helen was saying and doing, memory intact. Then, as she was about to get off the phone, she proclaimed a blessing over my life and...
It appears from the distance and runs towards the watering hole. Then it stops. Then it’s off running again. Then it stops once more. This time, I see what passes for a mischievous grin on its face as it takes off with a measured run that is part gallop and part bounce. A group of us are sitting silently in a game drive vehicle, puzzled but amused. A lone hyena sauntering to find water on a blazing hot day at the Etosha National Park should not be cause for amusement....
“It’s like you’re a chameleon,” said my nail technician. She was selling me the dream of multichrome grabbers. I wasn’t convinced but since she’s never steered me wrong, I went with it. After a few days of marveling at how my nails change according to how the light hits them, I was sitting at my desk when my tech’s words popped back into my mind. I thought about it. I have never been able to adapt to an environment, like a chameleon. I suppose some would go as far as...
The chants were thunderous. For the first time that day, they drowned out beats blaring from the stage upstairs. One word rained down on the bassement of the dilapidated train station: “Emtee! Emtee! Emtee!” At a glance, Stage 2 at Riky Rick’s inaugural Cotton Fest looked like the designated spot for emerging acts. Read: the stage that forces you to humble yourself as the Not-Yet-Somebody you don’t believe yourself to be. Upstairs, spot that shone with natural Jozi city light during the day and was emblazoned by pyrotechnics and flashing...
When I’m listening to a conversation - an interview on the radio, teachings by a popular person via podcasts or even eavesdropping nje - there is always a point when I go: hm, how would I answer that? I don’t know if you do this too but, often, I get this excited feeling because the question is so good. Or the person’s answer is thought-provoking and leaves me questioning my own feelings. This happened to me on my drive home from work today. I was listening to a conversation between...
Two years ago, I swore I’d never go to Oppikoppi again. Nothing bad happened. I had just been going to the festival in Limp City since I was a baby writer. I’d missed some years but overall, part of my job was attending festivals like that and I did it on and off for years. The only sucky thing about it: I hate camping. And I have anxiety about being unable to share experiences with people I love but that’s a story for another day. Fast forward to two years...
April 3. My one year radioversary came and went last month and I couldn't bring myself to write about it. If you know me, you know radio has been the best thing to ever happen to me - and I've had some pretty epic things happen to me. Over the weekend, someone I love asked me how my show was going. It hit me: it's been an entire month off air and no one noticed. That's testament to two things: 1) I have had no impact 2) Support can have...
What I've been doing? Oh, just sweating about how I'm going to take my ideas out of my head and onto the screen in your hand and/or in your house. Wish me luck.
Anxiety is a bitch. At the beginning of this month, my Dude was sprawled across our sofa couch as sun rays licked and lulled him into sleep while he pretended he was really concentrating on this stupid movie he insisted we watch. His eyelashes curved up as salutation. When I was much younger, I used to religiously read Demetria L Lucas’ blog. On the day of the bad movie, I’d just stopped going down a rabbit hole of really old posts from her blog. I stopped because of this line:...
I just spent what feels like 10 minutes - although it was probably shorter than that - scrolling through Facebook. I found out that Masta Ace has a Tiny Desk Concert out. Good job, NPR! I mean, just two days ago, my Dude and I were in a convenience store and saw the American soft drink and I yelled: “somebody gon’ slice him and send him to Dr Peppa!” But that’s not what I was looking for. What I couldn’t find was this post - I forgot who uploaded it...
As a journalist for so long, you’d think I respect a deadline... Hello, again. It’s been a very long time since I put up a blog post. I’d love to say it’s because I’ve been so busy. I have been busy. But that’s not why I’ve been away. I haven’t quite known how to come back. I wanted to come back, with something significant to say, and the courage to say it regularly. So I set a deadline: 1 April 2018. A big part of me is like: you can...
