After 25 years of his Rolls-Royce of lies. And my long base Siyaya patience. Trying to build a home, with him in mind, for our children... I found BooSassa in bed with the help, Agrizzi. I would give up my kidney and Louella pair to turn back the arms of time, to uncry the manifesto of tears that elected to condense me into a soapbox of fools right there in front of our creased bed linen and their damp devil may care birth suits.

This is art, in the true sense: something ‘ugly’ yet beautiful or fantastic at the same time. A fitting ode to Rasta, respec man! Like God, Rasta is in the business of creating from nothing. You want Rasta to reproduce your exact facial feature? Try nexdoor.

It’s also true that, on the land we have lived on for thousands of years, we can wake up one day, to claims, by settlers, that, it, our land, was “empty land” all along.

Mayine, phew! what a song by Simphiwe Dana. No, a monster of sorts to be sure. This instant classic is from her third album offering, Kulture Noir. When I first heard that song, I was transfixed. Well, the whole album bubugqwirha nje, ukuthakatha of the Most-High vibrations.

Christianity is a big player in the business of interpretation. In precisely this way, it is generative of hegemonic interpretative schemas. Prayer, for starters, can no longer be imagined outside its lingo. Secondly, any appeal to the world of spirit is now bifurcated into God and demons. Devils are black, Angels are white.