Back to Black

Back to Black! Let me take you back to when Black was Black. When Ubuntu resided in our souls, I swear to God we were blessed. Before the Voshos. Nako tsele tsabo Kofifi dance, what the fans of Kwela-Kwela would give to see Amapiano dead. Yes, reality’s been sad, but at least nako tsela our sorrows were drowned in the sound of soothing jazz. We envied the stares, tapped dance till nightfall because we came prepared. But now we’d rather drown in alcohol instead, then break the bottle to prove that we aren’t scared, get chased in the AMs and find our black asses in a puddle of red.

Blood stains, now my white kicks caught the dirt. Ran out of breath, ngashaya itaxa and got my trousers torn by the fence, hiding behind the tree as I’m catching a breath. Same time I pray that God comes to my defence, forgetting that He’s the one I disrespected when I was eager to sound woke; got high from the weed then started to question His will. And nama siko sengawa lahla, angisasi faki naso isphandla, poverty goes to the gym, nenhlupheko izi nike amandla.

Lempilo inamanga, cha mfana mina ngiyala. Ukuthi nginikela ngam? Ngabe umama wayedlala ngenkathi angiyala, but this is the system I too was born into. A victim to societal issues, like cross-eyes trying to help the blind tie their shoes, every attempt to help results in regret, getting tangled in the mess. A lesson learnt for the moment. But as soon as the threat is diffused, it’s the uncultured streets that I turn to. A questionable relationship we have, but it’s been a friend when I had no one to turn to. As soon as Dad died and I turned two; it’s like witnessing your own death with no one to save you. Now it’s me against the voices in my head; whenever I try to detach, they tell me, “but we are the ones who came to your rescue”.

Societal norms burden us with loads of expectations. It’s our future they try to jeopardize, but I pray the pressure dies. Cause at the end, it's Me, Myself and I, so miss me with the pressure,guys. They say, “if you want to see change, then be the change.” It’s insane, how can we fight the system when we’re already at war with ourselves? We’ve got anxiety, childhood traumas and depression at a tender age, it’s no surprise later in life we turn into aggressive savages while peace remains a foreign concept. We need a factory reset, we need to go Back to Black, because without that, things will only get worse.

What a world. You’re less likely to die when flexing a 9 than you are carrying a purse. But between you and I, I swear, I feel like my kind was set up to lose from birth. So, looking forward to death is all we know. Knowing at least they keep us in their thoughts now that we’re no more. And although a list of my convictions makes up my eulogy, just know that my actions were reactions to this toxic energy. And even so I loved my brothers, some brothers loved me too, before we were enemies. Breaking bread in half but in their eyes my half is the only thing they could see. I had to die for you to believe. In death is the only time we clearly see. RIP to Ricky.

The system is tricky, believe me. Politicians stick their fingers in every piece of the pie, even in religion. May the Lord intervene, please! Pastors preach, “Jesus is the only way, yekani uku sebenzisa imithi” but then go and consult Izangoma to gain popularity in the ministry. Impilo yamanje stru nasi yilokxion biskop fiilm. And you won’t guess who plays the villain. We even get lost in the midst of self-discovery, so when I say Back to Black, I mean we need to start afresh and find ourselves. It’s no coincidence that there’s ‘intro’ in introspect!