The words handsome, talented, intellectual and charming are just a few that come to mind when I think Moki Sage. He is an architect, lead singer, rapper, beat-boxer from Koldproduk. I think multi-talented is a better description.
Koldproduk, a really cool hip hop/ pop band, is well known for their impressive videos and lyrics. Koldproduk demonstrated their diversity musically by collaborating victoriously with rock-punk band, Straatligkinders last year.

For a while now, I have been interested in finding out more about Moki Sage, the man behind the star and when he agreed to let me ask him a few questions I was really excited.

This is how he answered…

• As a child you…?  Was insatiably inquisitive and experimental.
•    You’ve always wanted to be…? Able to do just what I wanna do, and feel how I wanna feel and not have to explain anything.
•   Friends would say that you are…?  Too much sometimes; a BIG dreamer; an idealist.
•    You would never…? Quit on something or someone that I feel strongly about without giving my best shot at success.
•   If you were a meal you would be…?  Something that you’ve always loved, but now done in this new way for the first time, and am way more….interesting…
•     If you could go back in time. You would…?  Have taken myself a little less seriously. 
•   People say you look like?  More like my mother and only a little bit like my father.
• The worst job you’ve ever had was…?  Working the cash register at my family’s business in my late teens.  I know there was a “bigger picture”, but it still kinda sucked.
•   You are addicted to?  The thrill of the chase; let’s just see what happens.
• Your guilty pleasure is?  Sweet Mary Jay. 
• What are some of your hidden talents?  I can pull a few funny faces, and make different characters with my voice.
•  On heavy rotation on your iPod is/are?  Bootleg Mp3s, honestly.  I know it’s a shame, but most if it’s really good music.
• Your most embarrassing moment on stage?  I’ve performed on some embarrassing stages, but luckily I haven’t had any embarrassing moments
• If you could do a duet/collaboration with anyone it would be with…?  Lady gaga, jay-z, Tinie tempah, D’Banj, Metaphysics.
• You are interested in women who…?  Are real cute by the face and chunky by the waistline.  Plus have a sweet simple charm and an open mind and heart to match.
• Your ideal date involves?  Getting up close and personal; close enough to touch, feel, smell and embrace, and most especially, a passionate kiss.  I’m a touchy guy and a woman’s body has many interesting quarters for my hands to run over.
•   You would love to have dinner with?  My future self 30 years from now, and I’d let him do most of the talking.

• On a Saturday night one would most likely find you…?  At peace at home; tipsy and amorous and hopefully in good company.   The laptop’s on and music’s playing, and I’m writing down and working on some ideas that just might turn out great.

You can listen to Koldproduk’s second album “Prepare To Rise” on www.myspace.com/koldprodukproject with their  freshest song Round and Round on which they feature highly praised French singer Greg Basso. The album is a lot of fun so check it out and let us know what you think.

 Images: facebook

Last week during my first journalism class for the semester, my lecturer gave a somewhat colourful speech on what makes a successful journalist. She spoke of all the qualities one ought to have, the skills and objectivity that goes into becoming the very best of the best in the world of journalism. Her face seemed to glow as she explained the delight of her own career in the field. The whole time she was talking I sat there shaking my head because nowhere and I mean NOWHERE in that speech did she describe me. None of the many wonderful experiences she had were attractive to me.

After all of that I could finally admit (aloud) that I do not want to be a journalist when I grow up. It felt so good to say that, I was tempted to scream it off the roof tops.  However when the excitement of this confession to myself died down, I realised that although it felt good to say, this revelation left me in the middle of nowhere.

What now? 

I wish I could say to hell with my life plans. To pack my bags (mentally) and go anywhere the road takes me. To flow freely without the restrictions of plans, fear and responsibility. To take a walk on the wild side, something liberating like that. To let my hair down and run with the horses, but I am afraid. I need that safety net that comes with knowing. It doesnt really matter if what I know is true or false because it gives a sense of direction at least.

Today I am looking to be inspired. I am looking for a way forward.

Photographers: NguJaz & Seilatsatsi

I had a very intense and equally inspiring conversation with friends the other day. In fact this conversation stuck with me so much, that when I met up with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while it came up again. There are so many factors that come into play within any relationship. Rules, compromise, personalities and we trust that the mix works well. It is a very big deal letting someone into your universe and vice versa, more so when you are both very head strong.

Life works very differently from the days of my parents. While my mom has always been a working wife and mother, I believe her level of independence was very different from mine. I am growing up in a world where the fittest fish lives longer. Everything is so fast paced and results driven, that we often forget to just breathe.  It actually reminds me of the saying “Time is money”.

Now I’m wondering if that is what life is really about? Do we only measure true independence by how financially well off we are? What are the true indicators of success and wealth all round, because sometimes I feel that the lines get a little blurred.

I often describe myself as a strong independent black woman, I can do bad all by myself.  I am a product of my surroundings and times.  However I have realised as attractive as the idea of independence is, it sometimes alienates us from the opposite sex.  I am by no means speaking on behalf of all the independent women out there, this is a personal observation.

in·de·pen·dent
1.  Not governed by a foreign power; self-governing.
2.  Free from the influence, guidance, or control of another or others; self-reliant: an independent mind.
3.  Not determined or influenced by someone or something else; not     contingent: a decision independent of the outcome of the study.
4
a. Not relying on others for support, care, or funds; self-supporting.
b. Providing or being sufficient income to enable one to live without working: a person of independent means.

I was once told by a young man who was attempting to take me out on a date, that I was too independent for my own good. I was completely taken aback by that statement, I mean really what in heaven’s name does that mean. Let’s take a look at the definition of the word independent courtesy of the freedictionary.com.

Now how could I possible be too independent if I fall within the confines of the above definition? I accepted the invitation to the date and I must admit I have a lot of fun.

I also have to be very honest that I became very self-conscious about myself through out the whole date. Things that I would ordinarily do without thinking, I somehow felt I needed permission to proceed.  Now we both know that beyond this date, this dude was not going to be seeing me anytime soon. Maybe I am a little too independent but then again I am who I am.I don’t understand what that means or how it could possibly be a bad thing. I mean I’m nothing like those leading ladies in the movies like Sandra Bullock in The Proposal. I know when to ask for help and I sure do know when to receive. However this lead me on an introspective tip in hopes to find the answer to that absurd statement.

My introspection ended up being another conversation with a bunch of girl friends over a cup of tea at work. Naturally we all concluded that the young man was grossly misguided.* silent chuckle* You have to love women sometimes and at the end of  it all we agreed that sometimes we tend to wear the pants when it’s not necessary.
I am independent and very proud of that fact. I’ve managed to graduate, get a job and start a career for myself. I can buy things I want to, when I want to.  I can certainly have a conversation about money with my bank manager, my broker and perhaps the odd folks at the round table. As with everything in life it is about moderation, but I will not be cornered into thinking that my independence is something wrong. All too often men are celebrated for their independence and achievements as a result.
I’m hoping one day in a galaxy not so far away, that young women will also view in this light. With fear or favour, criticism and stereotypical feminist comments.
Ciao bellas

Writer: Nonhlanhla Msimango    Images: Tumblr

Thoughts of him follow me everywhere I go. I think about him even when I know, I should'nt be. These thoughts are neither invited nor are they rejected. Despite the fact that todays thoughts are new, they are not unfamiliar. His presence lingers like a footpath across my heart. My soul I would sell in return for a moment to look into his eyes, just so my butterflies could lift me to the level of ecstasy as they flit about in my stomach. At his feet I lay my emotions transparent and open to scrutiny. At his feet I lay bare my love in all its blindness but, he refuses to accept. His love is a slice of cake I am too diabetic to taste. I still want to share with him myself although his response has changed into " i know". I often wonder how I became, to him, so insignificant.

My mind keeps telling me to leave and forget about this, him, us but my heart treacherously insists on getting one more kiss, a sweet caress, a minute to explain, one try to get him back on the same page. In the end sense prevails. With my hands I splash water on face almost as if to drown thoughts and any evidence of him that reside in my head. I can no longer pretend his still here when he forgot about me long ago.

 Falling in love is the easiest thing in the world to do, staying there is the hard part but keeping the other party in love with you once the spark is gone may as well be impossible.

For some years now I've lived my life the S.K.B way, pushing any obstacle in my path to the side and doing anything to get me where Im going. Its fun, you know, having no sense of false pride. When you dont know something you ask and when needed will steal, beg or borrrow. Stepping on toes and taking names with the greatest of ease. Turning doubters into believers and giving haters reason. Never backing down when you're right and always proving to be worthy without breaking a sweat.

Did I mention: never shying away from stabbing a few backs in exchange for a playmate?

With Kelis's Bossy on heavy rotation on your minds ipod, you look out for number one and in my case I (#1) am also number two and three.

Then, just when you're most comfortable on that high horse your parents have another child, you're no longer nana and magically your birth name is in full use or some man snatching bitch comes along and wreaks your home. (ok, so she isnt necessarily a bitch but you are angry as hell so it will have to do for now.) Your new colleague gets a welcome to the office party with cake and all that jazz when all you got was a 'theres your desk' when you were the new girl a week ago or how your movie thursdays/ girls gone wild fridays are traded in for romantic evennings and P.D.A when your mates get new love interests. Worst yet you end up not even getting that business/social position you've spent most of your life hurting others to get.

Faster than you can say S.K.B you're the one left in the dust with a dagger through the heart or in the back (which ever one comes first). So before you are too quick to pull the rag from under someone else's feet remember: what goes around comes around.

Photograpers: Shy_1 & Matt

I'd like you guys to meet Tumelo Moema,

I've met alot of people before who say that they love fashion but its a different story when you can see that they love fashion. I know and ive seen that Tumelo loves fashion and i digg her style.

I hope that you guys welcome her with open arms ...

Photographer: Leeroy Jason

Now don't get me wrong Im happy with my life and there isnt anybody I would rather be. However, while I lie in bed cuddled up with a book on a friday night I tend to think: If each of our lives were categorised like music, I would be in the RnB section whilst most of my peers are in the RocknRoll section [Damn, even the alternative and house sections have more fun]. I can't help but wonder if I am missing it all.

The parties, the sex, the drugs. Rubbing shoulders (among other things) with A-listers, B even C-listers anything as long as my name is on every guest list. The exotic get aways, running wild, dancing on tables and skinny dipping the night into morning. Making endless memories and plently of stories to tell to the kids one day.

But we cant all live in the same section right? Maybe these late night socials, weekend trips, the stiletto wearing and swagger pushing lifestyle is just a mask for a deeper more soiled need to be somebody else.

We all have a person (people) who we would like to see again or meet for the first time, each of us for different reasons. Whether its on a bench in full view of still waters or on a beach over looking crashing waves, so we could introduce ourselves or fall in love again. In an empty park or one flooded by sounds of playing children, to ask for forgiveness/ to grant it, to explain why or ask it.

On a sunny day with chirping birds or a cloudy afternoon which offers nothing but wind, to say thank you/ I love you or to simply turn your back on that person and walk away.

I would love to get a chance to sit with my brother, Teboho, who passsed away when we were young. I would just sit there soaking in his presence, sharing with him the little things we often take for granted like: time, space and breathing the same air.  I can imagine a bitter-sweet sensation filling my heart as I reintroduce myself to him. In his embrace I would seek refuge that a girl can only find in her big brother.

If you got the chance to sit on a park bench with anyone on earth and beyond, who would that person be?

Photographer: Tebogo Motea

I have all kinds of friends. Every type from the ones who are ghetto as hell, hmmm not hood-rat ghetto more like ghetto fabulous. Friends who hang with me for my honesty and those who hate me for it. Friends who have never seen me cry to those whose shoulders are still damp from my tears. Friends who know nothing about me, the same friends who think CL stands for Comeback Later or something like that and a few who could blackmail me at any given time because they know way too much. Hell I even have friends who spend so much time behind my back that I doubt they know how my face looks.

 All of whom are crazy but none of them guys.

I am looking for a guy friend who thinks I'm beautiful enough to be beautiful but not enough to want to ' get with me'. One that will call me baby_doll and kiss my forehead.  Who will, without hesitation tell me he loves me ( that would be true too) and as sweet as he is would come rescue me when I'm stranded, jump/kick starting my car if I had one. He would pick me up and spin me around when one of us has done something worthy of our victory hug. In return for his friendship I will be the best man at his wedding and God mother to his children. I will give him a shoulder to cry on/not. Throw him surprise parties on his birthday, eat from his plate, sip from his drink and bug him. I will give him all my love, keeping a (almost) permanent smile on his face.

Photographer: Lebo luke warm

Q: what do you think of teenage pregnancy?
A: I think the rate of  of teenage pregnancy is too high, I mean we've all had sex education classes/ family planning lessons/ Soul City
so these kids don't have any excuses.

then I thought lets try writing about something else...

Q: what does being a young black female mean to you?
A: I don't know... honestly, I don't know. I have never been held back from or accelerated to achieving anything because I am young/ black/ female.

then... nothing. I felt as though my mind stopped working.
Now desperate for a new angle, I look inside myself and wonder if I should share my fear of failure. Maybe share my fear of someone breaking into my house to violate my privacy, my body and ultimately my mind or how I look at the women in my family to see most are single mothers and the thought of that being my future haunts me daily. I shake my head and decide that's too deep.

How, though, can this be too deep when there are husbands/wives that infect their partners (whom they swore in front of God to love and protect) with HIV/AIDS? Fathers who sodomise and rape their children. Mothers who wrap their little ones in plastics or blankets then toss them into bins/some ditch or other.

Tears fill my eyes and I remember why I love writing about rainbows and butterflies. Some realities are too ugly and heavy on the heart. So forgive me for being a romantic and loving everything made of sugar and spice. Please allow me room to enjoy the pleasures of escaping reality (if only for awhile) and I promise to think more open mindedly, giving you a wider view on things and to go around each circle only once.

Photographer: Lebo Luke Warm

There is a definite sense of hunger and a boiling passion in me. Its evident I have the need to succeed. Question is am I so caught up in making it, pushing and grinding that my hustlers ambition will blind me to the fact that I have already made it or that at least I am on the right track?
My dreams are so big that they scare the hell out of me and that's what makes the risk seem so worthwhile, but no matter how fool-proof my plans may be I cannot dictate how everything will turn out, life just gets in the way. Situations change, money appears or disappears. Time made the best of or wasted. Opportunities seized or missed and inspiration spurs you on or crumbles.
I'm not saying don't plan anything anymore, I am simply saying don't just plan the right moment to live but live every moment because whilst you're busy planning tomorrow you miss celebrating your life today.

Photographer: Khumbelo Makungo

Tokollo of TKZ vs Bongani of Fassie records. Between the two lies a great amount of talent, love for music and sex appeal. They both have had their fair share of head clashes with the police.

From Tokollo's dope lyrics to Bongani's ill beats, anything these guy touch leaves us salivating from the mouth and beyond...but who is the baddest in the land? which bad boy takes you on a record high?

You're on the other side of young so treat yourself to a toy boy or two *giggles* I mean, since you cannot teach an old dog new tricks why not get a puppy right?
Be the cool older woman who boasts the latest fashion, knows the hot spots and has all the contacts. Make him your Mr. Fun Stuff, let the good times roll or Mr. Big Stuff because surely what he lacks in experience he can make up for in stamina.

Show him how to treat a lady, groom him and then send him back into the world a better man. See it as taking one for the team and who knows? He might just surprise you.

Plus when you've had enough you can send him back to his mama. Imagery

This is the best time to become your own number one priority. Rediscover and reinvent yourself. Focus on your career/studies, learn a new language, go to a comedy showcase and take a road trip with the girls. Reconnect with yourself and do all the things you’ve wanted to do but never had time to do before. At some point the road will get rough and when it does your mantra should sound something like “I am a strong and beautiful woman, I will get passed this.” So put away that endless supply of chick flicks and twinsavers and get onto the healing path. Once you heal and I mean really heal you will be able to reclaim your life.

If you forget everything you’ve just read at least remember this: don’t make the next man pay for what the last one did or didn’t do.

Photographer: Nappy Head

Just when you think reality TV concepts have been exhausted, and the time for a new fad has come, BBC hits you with yet another one.

Last night I stumbled upon "Undercover Princes", a reality TV show that follows three princes on their quest to find love in Britain. Throughout the three weeks, Crown Prince Manvendra of Rajpipla, in India; Prince Remigius of Jaffna, Sri Lanka and our very own, Prince Africa Zulu of the Onkweni Royal House in Kwa-Zulu Natal take on menial jobs and do not reveal their royal identity to their prospective partners until the very end.

Naturally, I was most intrigued by our Prince Africa Zulu who proclaimed that "British girls are really very honest and loyal people and very loving even though they are not as romantic as French people". In the first episode, the three go out into Brighton to find their British life partners, and Prince Zulu calls himself a hunter who does not want women with a "V shape" (knock knees). He approaches these mostly drunk women in pubs and clubs with "can I touch your hair, it is so beautiful" and "are those your real eyes, they are so beautiful" and "you are the most beautiful woman in this place".

This openly homophobic man says "there is a sodom in this aquarium" (HUH?) in reference to his gay housemate, Prince Manvendra!

It is a strangely racist social experiment that showcases the "bizarness" of these men with, admittedly, sometimes hilarious results. Most of all, this show brings to light British perceptions of "otherness".

"Undercover Princes" is broadcast on BBC Entertainment on Tuesdays at 21:30.

This month's First Wednesday Film Club showcased Jahmil XT Qubeka's new feature film project, "A Small Town Called Descent". The film boasts actors Vusi Kunene, Paul Buckby and Fana Mokoena and a powerful performance from Isidingo's Hlubi Mboya.

The film follows three (VERY HOT AND SEXY) Scorpion agents on their investigation of Xenophobic attacks that happened in a "small town called descent"! The script is a powerful and sometimes funny look at South Africa's political dynamics from the eyes of civilians and the high, sometimes very shady,  echelons of power.

I suspect that this could be the South African film that finally breaks the mould! Jahmil has a strong unapologetic voice that offers a representation of South Africa, that rings true beyond patriotism and rainbow nation rhetoric.

I got heads up from Leeroy Jason [He took all these images] about Khosi Nkosi and to be honest with you I really like the designs that she is bringing to the table.

This I wouldnt mind at all ...

According to their facebook page Khosi Nkosi Fashion House was founded by a young, selfless, artistic and creative designer, who was inspired by African Role models to start her own fashion house.This is her reflection, understanding and passion towards fashion, while enriching the hearts and lives of the people.The khosi Nkosi garments are inspired by what the brand essence stands for:Strong, African, Modern, Nubile woman that loves and respects herself and pays attention to details. via/ Ciaafrique

They dont have a website though, which is sad --- i wanna know more about them.

Edit: The woman clothing is by Khosi Nkosi [its avalable at YDE nation wide] & Mens are by Thabo Mukwevho.

I’ve been a fan of this magazine since the beginning --- and I would to see it succeed even further and break the stereotype of black owned magazine that shut down after a couple of years of being in production. It’s a good quality magazine, and Anela Mdoda is on the cover for the month of May. Anele is radio dj at 5FM

hattip via/ Justcurious

The M-Net New Directions call for entries is now open. The project is in its 17th year and boasts over 50 short films. The initiative is a great launching pad for filmmakers and pretty cool content has come out of it over the years.

This year, the theme is "Heart" - lots of creative freedom there, I think!

M-Net will commission 2x 26-minute short narrative dramas and 1x 48-minute documentary, with budgets of R300 000-R350 000 and R200 000 respectively. The closing date for entries is Monday 7 June 2010, with commissioned films due for delivery in February 2011.

For more information, visit www.mnetcorporate.co.za or contact Bongiwe Selane or Palesa Xorile on +27 (0)11 686 6000.

The Wits Arts and Festival Literature (WALE) promises four days of film screenings, theatre, exhibitions and performances. Check out artist, Nandipha Mntambo's "Ukungenisa", a 2 and a half minute video which rehearses the steps of a bullfighter in the abandoned Praca de Touros in Maputo. The artist's work will also be in exhibition.

Other exciting events on the line-up is John Kani's "Othello" as part of the Wits Drama for Life programme. Acclaimed spoken-word poet, Staceyann Chin returns to South Africa for a live performance on Saturday night at the Wits Great Hall.

The Wits Arts and Literature experience runs from the 21st to the 24th of April 2010. Go to www.wale.co.za for a VERY full and detailed programme.

I’m a fan of Truelove magazine; to be honest with you i don’t know why. No, i'm lying the reason why i loved Truelove is because of Khayi Dhlomo. There was something right about the magazine [at the time] ... that even though I was not the target market, it spoke to me.

I bought the latest issue and i must say ... the cover is the nicest [and the fashion shoots] but the design i'm not so sure about it.

The photography is not exciting either, its the model and change of garment --- no concept or art direction whatsoever. Buts that’s only my view of it.

I will never claim that I am writer, but this is best piece I've ever written ....

As we grow older, we become wiser; we become stronger because we learn from our mistakes – experience. Then one day you realise that you are no longer the boy you thought you were, because of those experiences.

You live, love, laugh, cry, create, work hard. Then you realise that everything you’d been chasing all you life – is not worth it anymore. You don’t want that car, or that model in that music video anymore.
I always say whats the point of having a brilliant mind if you can’t change it. I change my mine all the time. And yes, I did say brilliant. It had to take Lelethu to make me realise that and celebrate that. And instead of that brand new car, I want a legacy. I want to be remembered forever.

I want people to remember me for humility; my laughter; my love for my parents, siblings, friends, love for my work; and for my love for life. I wanna be remembered for going on holiday to Mozambique broke, but coming back rich with memories for a lifetime. And last but not least I want to be remembered for love, yes love. Since I love what I do and the best way for me express what I really feel is through my work. I give you my heart – this magazine.

This is best way I know how to make sure my love for Lelethu Lumkwana lives forever – even when I’m not longer here, the magazine will stay. That will be a constant reminder – my legacy. I hope and pray that this magazine becomes a constant reminder that you only live once, and if you do it right once is enough.
Live your dreams, step up, and don’t be afraid to be wrong. Live out all the clichés you’ve heard, travel, cry, love. Smile to that girl working the counter at the bank and find something to compliment her on – she might need it that day. Always say thank you to the taxi driver when he drops you off – he doesn’t owe you anything, but it might mean something.

Be nice, be humble. Live like like no one is watching you. Work like money doesn’t matter; love like the way you wanna be loved; be the change you want to be in this world.

I still hope that I change world one day. Make it the world that I want it to be... ’til then, I would like to dedicate this issue to Lelethu Lumkwana, Ausi Pinky Matsheke, Thato Matsheke, Moses John Matsheke, Molefe Matsheke, Dumisani Zuko Manqutu. To that girl who lost her grandmother in December. Lionel’s dad (he always greeted me with a smile); Caroline  Mkorwana. May your souls rest in peace. Live Now. Celebrate Love, Life and Longevity.

Writer: George Gladwin Matsheke       Photographer: Judd van rensburg & Das Tak

This Mpumi Ntintili-Sinxoto and she is a stylist. The latest covers for Studio83 and Celebrate Life were styled by her, I totally love her work. When we were shooting Akona Ndungane for s83,

I remember her taking me to a hardware store to get all the accessories that we used for that day and it came out beautifully. Since that day I knew that it was not the last time I worked with her.

We really had fun on this shoot, she showed me her versatility on this one ... another thing that blew me away was the pipe that we got from the hardware store ... how she made it work ... was brilliant.

On this one she took me to a house where film production companies hire clothing for big movies ... so basically they have everything you can ever imagine. She really did transform Precious kofi on this one.

In my next life or, depending on your views on metaphysics, in my other life that continues parallel to this one that I am supposedly more aware of, I hope I’m a showgirl.

I dream about it almost daily. The music, the costumes, the choreography, the fans, the feather boas... oh, the feather boas! That has to be the best job in the world, and if you disagree you have less colourful dreams. I’d make the most amazing, most spirited showgirl, and yet I sit in an office with two other people. It’s amazing how the music of our days drowns out the music of our hearts.

The excuses are so familiar, you don’t even need to say them out loud. My days are spent in an industry where most of my colleagues have spent time pursuing other goals, other dreams and now find themselves in this ‘artist behind a desk’ state.

All in repair from the mistakes made, getting ready to live the lives planned. As bright and as loud as my dream job is in my mind, my feather boa is at the back of cupboard in a Woolies packet that once carried organic eggs and wheat-free bread sticks. And my fishnet stockings are... where are those fishnets? I disappoint my next life (or my other life) in my lack of pursuit. The disappointment usually gets me thinking about legacy.

* I wanted to say, ‘So I got to thinking...’ à la Carrie Bradshaw, but I feared George would stomp on my toes. Boy-people don’t understand the joy Carrie Bradshaw brought us, and the fact that girls were using the phrase ‘so I got to thinking’ and drinking Cosmos way before Carrie. Am I digressing?

According to the Encarta
Dictionary, leg·a·cy is defined as 1. money or property that is left to somebody in a will 2. something that is handed down or remains from a previous generation or time. As well as, an adjective for something that is outdated or discontinued. The idea of legacy came up once again in a discussion with my dear friends Mpumi, Tetteh, Lelo and Keke, and their focus became spawn, sorry I mean lovely little children. The human beings they intend on bringing into the world will be their legacy.

Young Lelo will be the money or property that is left in a will? ‘I, Tetteh Botchway, being of sound mind and body hereby bequeath my loving son Tetteh Botchway Jr, to my old high school.’ I’m almost certain the school would send the young lad back, unless they needed a caretaker for a few weeks.

I’m not convinced our lovely little children are what will define us as human beings, and Moses Sithole’s parents agree with me.

What’s your evidence otherwise? I think we’re living our legacy. Everyday we are creating the memories the universe will have of us. (I’m now singing, ‘this is not a play, or some TV show you see, this is real life. You know that, this is your life, this is real life’. I really should stop listening to KayaFM.)

When we silence the music and shove the feather boa in the back of the cupboard, we choose our legacy. Every minute we spend thinking or acting out our lives are minutes spent shaping our legacy. The people we touch, the decisions we make, and the memories we create are what we’re writing in our legacy journal.

How we choose to spend our time, be it pursuing great profound thoughts and actions or cuddling the trivial, that will be our legacy.

And the distinction between profound and trivial will not come from what society has convinced us to believe nor what our mothers attempt to remind us every Sunday, that difference will come from the joy we find in the activities we choose to occupy our hours.

I think the universe will remember me for my tardiness; my ‘big lesbian crush’ on Neo Segola; for my loyalty; my F in Maths; the 4382 days devoted to what’s-his-name; my appreciation for the odd and anomalous; my numerous attempts at stopping the fulfilling habit of biting my nails; my kindness; my cold feet; my compulsive obsession with catch phrases; ‘my general awesomeness, being totally rad, all of it and then some’. I hope I never fail to live my truth.

I am Thembalethu Msibi, I live my life completely jealous of two people; Nothando Msibi, my 10-year-old cousin who has perfect comedic timing, always stands up for herself,

and has declared that she will be first black African female to win an Olympic gold medal for swimming so she’s hired a coach. And Wendy Modiba, the first black woman to perform as a showgirl at Sun City. 

Writer: Thembalethu Msibi                      Photographer: Zac Modirapula

*Kabomo speaking to Kabomo at 03:17 in the morning. This is not an act of ego. This is an act of self love. Shut up… I am trying to save myself here.

I stand in front of a mirror as the sun peaks above the skyscrapers and utter these words to myself. Then I quickly scribble them down on the flipside of a semi-used paper napkin. Then I rush to post it on my bedroom wall. I continue to read the words out loud to myself over and over again. This, after an excruciating three-hour long cry fest, days after one of my favorite people in the world died, running to the arms of her maker without even giving me a heads up.

And missing Lelethu is dining on double edged knives. I am in a moment. I see now how she had jam-packed hundreds of years’ worth of living into a blinking 24 years. How she intrepidly leaped into her revelation.

 And as I am wondering what made her realise so numerous of the promises she had made to herself? The answer flashes, clear as air: she had worked on herself so much that she had no choice but to love who she was becoming.

You would think I would have noticed this considering how she always took care of herself – dressed like a Vogue cover, read anything that would keep her smarts mounting, did yoga, drank water, wrote a letter, walked the continent, smiled a river, climbed a wall, shared a secret, held a shaking hand, fed her son, made a wish, followed a star. If she wanted something, she got up, folded the sleeves of her designer shirt, sent a text to her sister, and sped to her desire.

This is how people who love their hearts live. I want to love my heart like that. There I am in the salad hours of a grey Sunday morning, high on reminiscence, and aggravated that my arms are not adequately stretched to reach into it and alter how sometimes things go down.

Thinking about her makes me grasp how I should do a better job at loving myself. How I need to screen the words that spurt out of my mouth when I speak about myself. Eradicate the fish scales off my eyes and take heed that misery is shitty company. Those records need to be changed because no DJ could be paid nearly enough to play at this pity party. Even though I am depressed, avoided like a plague and possess an unquenchable craving for anything with a hint of filth, I can still change things around. The fact that my reactions and my liver have become numb to the Jack Daniels is a sure intimation that things can’t remain the way they are. I need a new route that will lead me back to myself.

Rock rolled, beyond her grave, Leza holds my hand, smiles and points me to where the promise is at. First, like an addiction group will attest, half the battle is in acceptance. Yup, I am that that the whispers are so keen to fill up the silences with. The stench does come from my room. I have broken rules. I have broken hearts. I have stolen things, ‘The bitch with the funny glasses. Don’t be fooled by the nerd look, that’s how that arrogant fuck gets you. Don’t fall for his shit.’

My hands are as greasy as they say, and they do slip easily into the cookie jar. And I have accepted that my struggle to forgive myself is embedded in the comforts of my self-loathing.

But sorry sir, the bus does not journey further than this stop. You might have to continue on foot, because from here on, I fly. From this moment on, I will no longer grin at being defined by everybody’s words, which only sees me through lens of those who are justified, or not, to crave for my demise, on all realms. Even if they should, I am done with that. I am more than my flaws. My story is far more coloured with love, growth, promise and testimonies of nuff cats whose lives have been changed by my acting on doors opened by God to be a blessing to others. So, I am leaving this dark room. You can stay here if you want, but I am out. From today, my words will be my first source of affirmation.

Writer: Kabomo Vilakazi     Photographer: George Gladwin Matsheke

Taken from the first Celebrate Life Issue

I believe that woman’s magazines should be sexy at all times, a little bit of sophistication never hurts anyone. Photography is CRUTIAL when it comes to a magazine cover [it makes or breaks the cover] ... the next thing is the colours, I love how they have used the same colour of her dress to match the background and it doesn’t clash or look tacky. Jet magazine has changed their logo, which is better than the previous one - this one it’s bold and simple which is good.

I briefly met Urbanmosadi in Cape Town, while I was there on holiday ... I think I’ve said this before that i would love to see more women getting involved in putting Celebrate Life magazine together ... this includes the people who shoot the covers and all. I have never worked with Urbanmosadi before but i would definitely love to.

There’s nothing sexier than a woman who dresses well ... i'm still trying to figure it out whether Karla dresses well or she photographs well or is it both...

Wandered around town today after brunch. I wanted to go bike riding but the boyfriend was doubting my athletic skills. First of all, you don't need to be athletic to ride a damn bike and second of all, how hard can it be to ride in heels?  Whatever... - Karla

I bumped into this blog today via twitter which is owned by CapeTown_Girl and i think that she is cool. I hear that there will be a Joburg Audi MVP something something going on ... i just wish i could be part of it ... coz i love Audi so much

Picture it. A misty Friday. 10 guys and girls are brought together to drive 4 cars: The Audi Q5, The Audi A5 Sportback Petrol, the Audi A5 Sportback Diesel, and the cheeky l’il A3. And boy did we drive! First up 4 of us girls piled into the Q5 and headed off the in the direction of Somerset West. The Q5 ignited the lust for a performance car – at 150km/hr on the freeway there wasn’t so much as a vibration on the wheel. It killed!

At the Firlands Shell we hopped out and claimed the A5 petrol. Our man from Audi got in with us and showed us how to really make the car work with you - accelerating into the corners and all that. I thought the Q5 was my new vehicle goal, but getting in the A5 has changed how I approach driving. The A5 Sportback, my friends, is the iPhone of cars! It’s unbelievable! I’ve always appreciated cars, but I now understand the geeky obsession surrounding performance cars. If you know what you’re doing, you can basically customise it’s performance to suit your mood. Lifechanging.

There is a notable difference in power in the petrol and the diesel A5s. The Diesel takes off like a rocket-launcher! It’s an addictive feeling, knowing you can move as quickly as you could possibly ever need to move on the roads.We made the most of this on the coastal road to Gordon’s Bay ... continue

Writer:  Alex van Tonder              this is taken from capetowngirl

So Teetee went to the fashion week and this was her review of the event ...

Before I begin with my thoughts on the shows I watched on Friday night, I just want to put it out there that Lucilla and her team at SAFW are actually unbelievable. They managed to pull off a great 3 days of fashion without their headlining sponsor Sanlam (not sure if any of you have realised that it is not SSAFW anymore but just SAFW). This shows me that South African fashion will always have a home at SAFW, because this is obviously a passion project for them.

LOXION KULCA
I really didn’t appreciate seeing 8 or so looks of ill-fitting underwear. I did quite like the looks I’ve upload, but on the whole, I am not sure I am convinced by the collection or Loxion Kulca’s direction. The women’s apparel was on a completely different tangent to the men’s.

GUGULAM, KAREN MONK KLIJNSTRA AND RJKAY
The shows that followed (except Gugulam) were all over the top, and not in a good way. There was too much going on, too many elements being brought together that compromised pieces that could have been quite beautiful. This was particularly evident in RJKay’s collection. Even drama needs balance.

Writer: Teetee Nteta                       This is taken from teeteeiswithme