Political activism at some point became hijacked and you could not tell the activists apart from the posers and the double-agents.
I was born in the 70's when enough was enough and the youth rebelled even more than before. Their "disappearances" increased however, but this did not stop the movement.
During the 80s I could pick-up from my much older neighboyrhood friends that Noddy and Liewe Heksie was crap and that the sun is filled with the blood of their Comrades.
I remember seeing an older friend, who attended a secondary school a two to three minute walk away from our section, in deep distress but with a sense of "Fuck the Man" aura engulfing him. The army was looking for him and he was running down the road in a girl's school uniform with a scarf covering his face.
The scarf served a two-fold purpose; hide his face in order to escape the army/the Man and the second was for our trusty old friend...teargas.
Because we lived in such close proximity to the secondary school; Caspers, helicopters, teargas and police and soldiers on foot was normal. Oh how can I forget watercannons and the distant chants of "Hozaaaaaaa sk........."
By the time I went to secondary school, the climate and political landscape had changed and it felt like there was not as many teargas moments of madness, the SRC members were harassed but did not disappear (as they did in past). Those with strong opinions, voices, charisma and "pull" seemed to have been given a stern talking to in the dead of night possibly staring death in the face in the form of an officer that looked him or her.
Some succumbed and years later acted like The Man did not get to them and others have gone to the extreme with extreme actions and not words, with the threat of death stoking the fires.
I randomly ran into an SRC member and greeted him and his body language and face changed. His only response was "How do you know that name, are you CIA".
As a South African teenager in the late 80s early 90s, we had all been "schooled" on the System and how the System divided us and did a brilliant job thereof, some chose to attend Mass Rallies and others chose the other pill and carried on.
We had all been carefully segmented and for the most part they made sure that the racial groups where self-sustaining organic matter within the borders/communities/ghettos/locations created for the human capital they mined like gold when they needed to.
Hip-Hop/Hip Hop/hip hop is where the overflow happened for my generation, actually the music and club scene before then is where alot of things were formed and happened. All the created racial classification groups mixed and took up the political struggle, whether it be the simple thing of "gatherings" which were banned and GOD-Forbid racial groups are "jiving" or having a "jol" together, that calls for rubber bullets and teargas.
The Hip-Hop generation that was coming into full swing during the mid-80s were still getting the same treatment, but it felt like we were on the tail-end as we now in full swing of "reintegration".
We knew that Mandela was no longer on Robben Island, alot of us thought it was bullshit, because that would mean something was brewing.
Filled with hunger for Knowledge of Self, sparked by being a Universal Zulu Nation member and being encouraged to read and share all that we find combined with the South African political landscape was like throwing dynamite into a volcano. We tackled Our world.
Quite a bit of my first attempts at writing "Raps" in the 80s was political and I kept writing stuff in-between including doing some poetry in the style of Gil-Sot and the Watts Poets and recording 2 songs in that vain.
Politics informed us about US and Our needs, now it is about feeding bellies and egos of the political entities.
It was a part of me and will remain a part of me and the following words which is part of a song i recorded with a friend of mine and is somewhere online, is part of journey etched into my Mind, Heart and Soul of my experience growing up in the Fair Cape on the Cape Flats:
Black moon,
Silly cartoon,
Sarcastic images of life,
Purpose driven strife,
Collage of colours form a nation,
Drug-free hallucination,
Of images that render insane,
Alcohol spunge slash brain,
My 3rd eye can't focus anymore,
Sally sells seashells galor,
Filled with Sudafeds and Qualudes,
Preludes interludes includes visuals for the ludes,
Musical composition fills my head,
Bloodsoaked tears shed,
Amongst individuals who don't care,
Spotlight junkies don't share,
Illusion fucked up conclusions,
Creates confusion Order emerges out of confusion,
Separating the originals from the fakes,
As my grandmother said you burn the grass you burn the Snakes.
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