Jozispeak - Nationals v1.0

"Epic" was a word used far too often this past week. It was, however, probably the most accurate descriptive word for an event that was awesome, ridiculous and amazing.

So I didn't do as well as I'd have liked, but, as always, I have excuses.

Firstly, and most importantly, we had two very poor adjudications. The thing about debating that separates it from most sports (physical or otherwise) is the fact that the person deciding the outcome needs to be at least as smart as you are. Although I've not been invited to a Mensa conference, I feel the adjudicators that placed me 4th in a seconday-day debate (THB the amount of money in sports is unjustified) and 3rd in the final pre-break debate (THB Thabo Mbeki's presidency was, on the whole, a success) lost me about 4 points. That would be good enough for a quaterfinal bearth.

Secondly, and somewhat more upsettingly, I had a speaking partner that seemed inspired by a mix of Courtney Love and Hunter S. Thompson, though that is being far too nice. Prepping for Monday's debates was difficult to do due to the mingling scent of alcohol, vomit and sweat - and it would be this propensity for over-indulgence that would make me glad I didn't break. Also, particularly upsetting was the fact that she placed higher on individual speaking scores - despite the fact that I had to practically feed her content. Non-Wits adjudicators do place more emphasis on style, which I hope was the tipping point.

So finishing 26th in team rankings and 48th as a speaker is disappointing (although, it must be said, I would have been slaughtered by some of those breaking teams).

But there was another side to this week - I was nominally in charge of the social events planned to keep the out-of-towners happy and drunk. For the most part, I think it was a success. The opening night, high above the Joburg CBD, was not - but mainly due to people not really understanding that "semi-formal" meant that we weren't there to get smashed. 20 floors up is not the place to be misbehaving.

Sunday night was definitely better, because people got to drink and dance to bad music while strangers drunkenly drew on white-shirted youth. I have a "sexy head" apparently.

A trip to the bowling alley and forays into karaoke were successful too, despite the fact that I had to manhandle some guy off the bar four times. Four. And I didn't get to bowl. But there was some cool old school hiphop and I went home early to be at my best for the day's next debates. So much for that.

And, dear god, there was yakka night on Wednesday. Yakka, sole property of Stellenbosch debators, is a vile vodka/lime/sugar/ice monstrosity that saves it's effects for about half an hour after it touches your lips. The problem with this is that people continue to drink while waiting for the settling. When it does happen, we have people throwing up, breaking bottles, girls crying and one girl passing out and having to have her stomach pumped. It was actually a lot of fun. Until someone swung a glass bottle at my head. Even the stomach pumping was enjoyable.

I spent most of Wednesday running around, not seeing Joseph Stiglitz speak and trying to save my job (which was not actually under threat). My speaking partner's, however, was. And she failed. Long story short, she failed to pitch when she had responsibilty and got sent home. Perhaps not breaking and not having to deal with that stress was good for me. It does mean I'll need to find a new speaking partner, but there are bigger problems in this world.

And Thursday, finals day, was awesome despite being hosted at Montecasino, the anus of Johannesburg. People wore suits and dresses, and wearing a suit always make me feel cooler that I am (I should try it on campus) and I had fun because my resposibilities were over and I could relax and politik about speeches and teams and Montecasino. The afterparty was pretty amazing, due to the bar tab that kept me pretty fucked up until the next morning.

I danced to so much bad music this week, but I had fun and made friends and learnt how to not fuck up monumentally, which was the really important life lesson here.

"Don't fuck up"

Fuck Bob Geldof

What to do if you're a singer and no one likes your music? You obviously crave attention - you're a singer for god's sake! - but wait, there's another way to make people listen to your inane Irish accent. Become a social spokesperson for all the poor disenfranchised of the world. You're obviously qualified - you're a pop singer!

I have a problem with not only Geldof, but celebrity activism in any form.

There are simply too many millionaires running around, crowing on about Darfur and, worst of all, not only failing to change the status quo, but actually worsening the problem. There are some exceptions of course. Bill Gates an Warren Buffet (celebrities?) are doing a good job of unloading millions of dollars to aid organisations and should be commended. Sean Penn went out in that boat in Katrina and saved a couple people. Nice job, you guys I'm ok with. It's Geldof and Bono and Angelina Jolie and Madonna that I can't stand.

There are a few issues I have with these people. One, they are not qualified to be making public statements about anything, really. Statements on global politics or tricky economic issues like debt relief are best left to people who know what they're talking about - politicians, academics, economists etc. Not Bob fucking Geldof.

This issue is often refuted by comments like "Everyone deserves a say, and celebrities encourage others to get involved, blah blah blah". Yes, everyone does get a say. I believe this practice should be ended as soon as possible. More seriously though, not everyone gets a say because not everyone is famous and rich. But those people who don't have a microphone used to have mass demonstrations and public outcry as forms of protest. What these celebrity idiots are doing, however, is eliminating grassroots activism because people now see them as their mouthpiece. And when people see celebrities doing their work for them, they become complacent. Why march when you have Bono meeting Gordon Brown or Ban Ki Moon? Effectively mass activism is being replaced by singular points of interaction, the celebrities. As I've said before, these celebrities are not the people to be raising the big issues because they are not the smartest people available. And if you're going to have someone represent you, public, choose the smartest people you can think of. Not Bob Geldof.

Geldof came out today to decry France and Italy for not fulfilling the promises made to poor countries at the 2005 Gleneagles G8 summit. Let's put aside the issue of why France and Italy, and the rest of the G8 should care and assume that they have to. Assuming that the nations of the G8/7/20 are obliged to help Africa (as the celebrity mob do), what are they expected to do? They are expected to write off debt and provide more money. Because the G8 countries have all the money in the world. OK, so they have all the money in the world - let's make them give some to Africa. And let's assume that African leaders use this money to better the lives of people and grow the economy. That last step is where the chain of reasoning breaks down (in reality it broke down on the "why should the G8 care?" question) because African governments are notoriously corrupt and short-sighted. But acknowledging this fact, and it is one, comes with consequences.

One such consequence is: But why give them aid, why not overthrow them and install democracies? Aha, but the celebrities said no to the invasion of Iraq, they can't now support it.

Two: It's kinda racist to blame Africa for Africa's problems.

Three: White people feel guilty about slavery and colonialism and raping the earth (as they should), so suggesting the problem lies with Africa itself makes them feel bad.

Unfortunately Geldof and Bono and the lot don't really understand things as well as Rolling Stone thinks they do, and they can't answer any of these questions. They may argue that all aid should go to NGOs who do good work here and not governments, but this just deepens the dependency-hole we find ourselves in and might be worse than the corruption.

Finally, I find it hard to listen to people like Bono and Geldof because, let's face it, they're ineffectual hypocrites. When Bono met with the Pope a few years ago, he did nothing to change the actions of Africa's worst enemy. With a reported 150 million Catholics in Africa, the Pope has a pretty large influence on the behaviour of close to a quarter of the continent's population. Why, then, is the man (former Hitler-youth member, let's not forget) constantly reaffirming the Church's anti-condom stance? With the highest rates of HIV/Aids infections in the world, Africa needs it's religious leaders to be helping save lives,and not condemning worshippers to a long painful death. And yet Bono met with the Pope. The Pope who tells his followers that condoms are essentially a ticket to hell. And Bono does nothing to change this message, but instead kisses his hands, like the guy is Don Corleone.

So, to conclude, celebrities are stupid, they're killing grassroots activism and they're hypocritical. So there.

The greatest failure

Today in my English tutorial, source of all things retarded in my universe, I realised that our government had failed its most basic function. The writing of our history.

Ingrid Jonker's "Die Kind..." was being discussed."What was the Sharpeville march about?" Was the question.

One girl who, sadly, was at Sacred Heart a year below me answers, "like, because of Afrikaans and education and that they had to learn in Afrikaans". OK, people make mistakes. I understand that. But half the class of 20 agreed with her. 

The failure of education systems is well documented. But these kids are privileged, private school, university students. The education has not failed them in the same way it has for those in the rural Eastern Cape.  

What is more pathetic, however, is that the ruling party is expected to set the standards of our national history, and have obviously failed. All incumbents write the past in a way to glorify their ascent, and this is understood and expected. The failure of the ANC to imprint March 21 as Human Rights Day (not, perhaps more appropriately, Robert Sobukwe Day) in the minds of the educated youth is a worrying fact. 

'Winners determine history' is one fundamental rule to any conflict and subsequent victory. What then of "winners" who cannot do even that? The multiple faux pas(es?) of educated students demonstrates the failure of the government to set an agenda that is actually implemented. Can service delivery be achievable when the spoils of victory cannot even be secured? Does the ANC not realise that it has a responsibility to shape our collective memories?

The PAC cannot. Relegated to bystanders they wield no power, despite being on the winning side of the conflict. They happened to be in the wrong camp, thus they have no say - and nor are they expected to. It is up to the ANC to indoctrinate the masses, but they've failed in this regard. 

The issue isn't that it was a PAC/ANC conflict. The PAC has fallen to the wayside, thus the mention of "The PAC and the ANC" leaves one acronym standing. The fact that this event is commemorated on our calenders is enough to suggest the ANC has enough political nous to see the day as significant to their history. Similarly, there is no commemoration for, say, Steve Biko on a national level, simply because his death is not as politically useful. The ANC, therefore, has been able to cherry pick the significant issues in their history. Where they have failed is in the attempt to make their history our history.

For this there is no excuse.

they died so that we didn't have to care

Yes, I voted today.

But what's more interesting (to me at least), is that these decisions are still so racially influenced. With the generations past, this is completely understandable and justified. I have no qualms about the fact that most older white people vote DA and most older black people (and I use black in the BC way) vote for the ANC, Cope and the scatterings of other groups. What was surprising is that after stumbling into a politically tinged conversation with some white semi-friends, I realised that most were voting for the DA. I only found this out when I shouted "who the fuck would vote for them?" and was met with an awkward silence.

Surely not. Surely they could see the campaign posters that bear "STOP ZUMA" across their faces like acne are lazy, intellectually stunted and a certain way to alienate a large majority of undecided voters? did they never hear Tony Leon speak? Did the frankly racist "Fight Back" campaign in the 1999 election not speak of the kind of party they were?

This post was not designed as an attack, though. All I'm examining is that despite the number of flaws in the party (and the same could be said for any other), young voters seem to still be governed by the invisible hand that is our past. The young people, rebelling against staid parents are also just accelerating the quiet racialisation of our post-apartheid state. On the surface, things have changed. But there are people who listen to the same music as me and dress in the same (not exactly the same) clothes who are bound to political views like cripples to crutches.

 

The only reason I voted for Cope was that I see it as the first attempt at a party that is formed after the maelstrom of apartheid politics. The rhetoric has never been like the ANC's triumphant "single handed" victory over oppression, nor has it relied on reactionary policitics (though it's formation was) of the DA. Perhaps by 2014 there will be a stronger sense of Cope as a party independent of Mbeki's former allies, but only through ensuring their survival now can I hope for such a future. 

Mondays

What a wonderful pre-election Monday I've had. 

An English lecture, surrounded by idiots and sniggering fools (sniggering is almost a very unnice and grammatically confusing slur) was just about the only negative. That and missing my IR tut. On that note, I got the highest mark in my course, which is justification, I feel, for my being an ass during tuts. 

After a wonderfully precise (10 minute) economics tut, Ndax, Dan and I took a little adventure that included a visit to Sennheiser and a Mexican restaurant. the Sennhesier people were quick and German about the business, which pleased me since I didn't have a receipt and the damage was probably my fault. Unfortunately the Mexicans are on a permanent siesta, so we went to a nice sushi place on 7th in Melville instead. Here was some delicious stuff. Eaten off a conveyor belt, it was more delicious as the kinetic energy is transferred to the flavour molecules. It's proven. We ate sitting in a row, quiet for the most part, stacking up tiny plates as monuments to our acheivements and conquests. Tuna California Roll. Salmon Nigiri. Sashimi. Crab Stick Fashion Sandwich. And on and on. Dan's girlfriend Amy came too, and added more trophies before we settled the bill and I put on my sunglasses that make me feel as if the world has had honey drizzled over it's frame.

Some more driving, a few stops and a meeting with my potential new boss at Melrose Arch and I was home as things cooled down. The sun set slowly and gradually my bare legs reacted to the cold, a tightened calf muscle. A tightened shin.

here are some photos I've taken with my new fancy phone.

Buy My Vote

I'm seriously considering voting for the first party to give me a free t-shirt.

Had I been five years older (and able to vote in the 2004 election) I'd have a much easier time deciding where my first scratched x would land: ANC, next to Thabo's smiling, souless face.

Today, of course, the ANC looks much different. Gone is the intelligensia of the exiled elite, the out of touch, ivory towered, Ph.D-waving leaders. Now we have the men and marginalised women of "the people". The same "people" who expect social grants to be extended, and houses to be built and service delivery to be bettered. I am not one of those people. I don't really care about grants or house, and as long as the basics (electricity, water, ADSL) are delievered to the northern suburbs, I'm happy. I miss the intelligensia. They were pretty hopeless, yes, but they also inspired some tiny sense of confidence. Now, instead, we have a man who's idea of a public address includes the call for a weapon and much gyrating. Yes, the song was an anti-apartheid rallying cry, but, I don't care. What I care about is the efficient judiciary of our state, the competence of our leadership, the fact that techinicalities are the only reason Zuma is walking free. 

This confidence I have lost, and for a fleeting moment I thought COPE might provide it. Here was a party born after the end of apartheid - perfect! - I don't have affiliations to any anti-apartheid party because I wasn't alive.  History means little to me, and thus a party born in the deracialised milieu I find myself in would be best placed to serve my interests, right? Well, almost. The trouble began with the leadership - former ANC "stalwarts" (why is this term used so often?) who defected after Mbeki's capitulation decided to defect and set up the Congress of the People. The obvious issue here was that they too (you, Terror) were tainted in whatever the ANC was implicated in. The tar brush forgets no one. After name calling and bared teeth, the virtually unknown (to me, at least) Rev. Dandala was selected as leader. Two issues here:

One: Who is this guy? Isn't this a Shikota deal? Why is Lekota's face also on the posters? What's going on? 

Two: I'm uncomfortable having a man of god be my president. I know, I know, they stopped touching children and telling everyone who didn't believe that they'd go to hell - but still. When politics and religion mix, I feel as if I've just had a milkshake topped with a layer of biltong.

So COPE have come out, gun ablaze in confusion, poor organisation and a leader I know nothing about but don't feel comfortable voting for. And some policy somewhere.

The underlying issue here,of course, is that our elections are about the party, not the policy. Sure, websites promise to "pull our people out of abject poverty". Of course nowhere is it asked "how?". Is the electorate so gullible as to believe any promise made without substantiation? After having seen ANC posters in Hebrew and Greek, it strikes me as strange to note that the ANC have courted these tiny demographics and ignored the (presumably) larger one: people who care about the actual issues at hand.

I'm at a stage where, should the ANC propose a massive, well-thought out restructuring of our economy and the issues of poverty and crime, I would vote for them. This despite the idiocy of men like Jacob Zuma and Julias Malema.

My Beds Are Always Empty (If You Don't Count The Ghosts)

Sennheiser PX100s breathed their final breaths of open-aired beauty today. I'm actually sad, the best headphones I've ever had (and I've had very, very many pairs) died a death unbecoming for a 5 month old.

R.I.P German buddies.