You have my word.

Words have power: that must count for something.

Keep crashing beautiful wave


Keep crashing beautiful wave

Break and crash and make a scene

They are watching you anyway

They are watching you waiting for peace

They are watching you not knowing you’re also rushing to the shore

Crash and scatter and show your strength in undoing

Show them you are strong enough to break

You are strong enough to spread yourself thin

You are strong enough to draw back again

You are strong enough to try again

You are strong enough to try again

You are strong enough to try again

Break brave wave

They are watching you anyway

It is seldom that they find peace in broken things

But you…

They piece themselves together as you come apart

So keep crashing beautiful wave

Keep doing what you’ve done for centuries till now

Let me tell you a little something about laughter:


Sometimes it’s all you’ve got; it’s all you’ve got to open your mouth and let out a sound. You can’t hold it but you can have it and that’s all the reason it’s so beautiful. It is not any kind of weight to carry like the sadness and the fear your hold. Those weigh heavy. Laughter is light, and it is light. Laughter is life and often it’s the start of a love that won’t die.

Laughter is more than that though. I remember the first time I saw my love laugh – there’s something about sharing that kind of moment: both of you for those few seconds open up. Laughter connects people. Laughter is more than a smile – although a smile needs credit in its own way. Laughter is sound, and sight and soul – there are few other things as intimate.

Apparently, every fifteen minutes you laugh you add a day to your life. Now I don’t know how true that is but clearly there is some benefit. Something of a truth and something of a cliché states that laughter is good medicine. Let me say that I know this well; I take medicine and it helps but it doesn’t have the same kick as a laugh.

Here’s something you might not expect, you can laugh for sorrow too. Sad laughter is a different kind of sound – it’s a bit like a wild animal that’s been snared. It’s violent and happens when least expected. It is not a gentle laugh, nor is it an excited party laugh. It is harsh, and it hurts. More than that, people who hear it don’t know what to do. Is it a warning cry? Do they laugh too?

But let’s not dwell. Laughter is universal; it’s more than a language. It’s a bit like music in that sometimes you can’t explain it… it just is. Laughter is the sound of not giving up. It feels like applause in your mouth telling you that you can do it – that you’re going to make it – that you’re doing well. Laughter has a ripple effect, like you pay happiness forward without having to do a thing except open your mouth and let out a sound.

Don’t leave me. Or am I better off alone?

It goes without saying that times are hard – there is a rarely a reality that sits closer to the tip of our tongues than this. South Africa is by no means exempt from this reality either – if anything, the day-to-day truth of this is evident from the poorest to the richest. Yes, even the rich face tragedy in the trying air of this country.


I love South Africa – through and through. It is beautiful; it is colourful. Despite the challenges, we are strong. We know a good thing when we see it and we smile. We are fierce. We have not given up. As much as it is “easy” to look for a way out – a better neighbourhood, more security, moving to another country – it is so easy to take a step back and admire what we actually have.


For a moment, remove the proverbial stones in shoe and breathe in the glory of this great land. Forget the blackouts, the etolls, the “security” swimming pools, the theft, the apathy. Forget it all and rather think of freedom. Think of our ocean of cultures, and races, and languages, and South Africanisms. Think of the minimal natural disasters, think of the hand-in-hand way of life overcoming dire poverty and ruin. Think of family – not only immediate, but your friends, the man selling newspapers at the robot each morning, the strangers who become part of the pack around a braai (with a Black Label and some biltong).


I am not denying that we have some work to do, but what a great time to be alive in a country that is far from boring – for better or for worse. South Africa will teach you many things, namely, how to survive… how to survive and make a difference at the same time. Maybe it’s a cup of sugar to the woman across the street, maybe it’s giving someone a ride home, maybe it’s buying a bar of soap for the small community sleeping under a shop’s balcony. This is who we are.


All this to say that Freshly Ground just dropped this amazing song called “Don’t Leave Me” – the perfect plea for a country. South Africa, you’ll be glad to know that I’m not going anywhere.

Readers, I hope you’ll stay too.

Dear Caitlyn Jenner | Quite honestly

Dear Caitlyn Jenner

Quite honestly, I didn’t recognise you at first glance as I scrolled past the cover of Vanity Fair on my newsfeed yesterday. I have followed your news-drawing story each day – from the triumphs and progress, to the hard days and the tears and the tough choices. Quite honestly, I don’t know if I would have the same courage as you.

You are beautiful. Quite honestly, there will be those who disagree not because you aren’t beautiful but because they don’t understand and that is their own shortcoming. As much as you need them to extend compassion to you, know that they too need your compassion. Quite honestly, I’m fists up and rearing to go this morning as, one by one, people in the office are discovering who you are. Not who you were, who you are. One such discovery was met this morning with: “Wat die vok is verkeerd met hom?” In English, that translates to: “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

Quite honestly, you ignorant imbecile, two things you should be blatantly aware of: firstly, there is nothing “wrong with him”. Secondly, it’s “her”. Quite honestly, Caitlyn, I think I would have been fired had I voiced the explicit opinion I hold so I held my tongue and I am sorry for that. A face skewed by so much disdain should only be met with a fist. That kind of judgement has no business in preserving life – trans or not. We are human.

Quite honestly, I can’t imagine everything that you have gone through – exacerbated by the extensive media coverage. Did that make it easier as you had no choice but to confront every bit of change head on? What kinds of questions did they ask? Did you always give an answer? People can be mean – myself included – and on behalf of humans, I wish you all strength.

All this to remind you that you are beautiful, even when you have bad hair days. This is by no means the end but quite honestly, I think you know that. Beauty is not just defined by external, this is another thing you know. After all, you have been true to yourself and that is most beautiful of all. Do not let them take that away from you. Quite honestly, they will try and you should be prepared to fight. There’s an army standing behind you.

You have opened up a way for people to talk about things they don’t understand, things they don’t support but want to know more about, things they’ve never heard of before, things they can choose to stand up for. Quite honestly, maybe that’s the most courageous thing of all. Yes, you’re the talking point of a lot of conversations but dare I say, quite honestly, that the conversations are more important; you will not always be in every headline, but you have done us the great favour of making it easier to have other conversations, to approach other headlines. This is the legacy that you leave.

Dearest Caitlyn, do not apologise. Do not back down nor make excuses. Do not hide away. Do not doubt yourself. Whether you like it or not, some people will make their own brave decisions because of you. That’s a lot of pressure, but it’s also the easiest thing to accept because you have already accepted yourself.

I take my proverbial hat off to you.



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