Ja. Edition 9

20 JUN 2016 EDITION 9

Hello lovely Ja. readers, This edition marks number nine on the list and oh boy does it not get any easier. We’ve come to love this little editorial page, because even if nobody reads it, it’s still our space to debrief about the nonsense going on in the world, or get too sentimental about the edition we have just completed in hopes that some fat wallet-ed investor will feel sorry for us and give us a bit of spare change to print this damn thing.

We’ll keep this one short and sweet though: Newsrooms and quality websites are still rapidly declining, and our pockets are still empty, but we continue to write, paint and create this little e-zine because of the great support its contributors give us.

Seriously, it is very cool to see an email in our inbox from someone wanting to share their art because, ‘from what I saw of the magazine, I can say I have a real crush and I think that our universes could match together’.So let’s just keep on doing this thing, there is enough love and art to go around. Happy reading.

Ja. team

CONTENTS

PROFILE

Painting the line between two worlds: The mural art of Words Booi WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY NOMPILO NDLOVU The streets are quiet in the small Grahamstown suburb. Bulelani ‘Words’ Booi holds a crumpled paper in a yellow gloved hand and a blackened paintbrush in the other.

“My wife is going to kill me when she finds out I used her kitchen gloves”, he laughs.

His grey sweat pants, black t-shirt and navy sun hat announce an ordinary man. Shoes make a crunching sound on the gravel as he takes a step back to observe through squinted eyes, the baby blue wall now sporting a few black paint strokes. A car passes slowly by and eyes stare at the man who now kneels at a wall with his paint brush, busy at work. Words pays no attention as he applies another stroke.

Defined black lines begin to take shape as he

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paints, curving and making their way into the ground. “This other lady said that it looks like ice cream,” he says.

Having initially studied engineering in Port Elizabeth, it was only five years ago that Words decided to move to Grahamstown in pursuit of his more artistic side. “I’ve always been an allrounder,” he smiles. “I realised I don’t wanna fix people’s TVs and stuff”.

Creativity has always been a part of his life, “Drawing has always been a thing for me.

You see my school books and you will see that there is a doodle there in the corner.”

The calling of creativity has led him to be a comfortable outcast throughout his everyday life and education.

PROFILE

“In school my lecturers will tell me ‘ey you don’t belong here’, you see the thing is I am not a conformist.” Unlike many graffiti writers and street artists who use the cloak of night to carry out their work, Words chooses to express his creativity on a public wall in broad daylight. He walks the thin line of creativity and vandalism as a street artist. “To come and spray penises and vagina’s in the middle of the night and write all these things in that form, that’s vandalism. But when you’re doing it during the day, and people know that you are doing it, and they know why you are doing it, it becomes something else.”

This particular piece has also been commissioned as part of Grahamstown’s recent Creative City initiative which aims to see every corner of the city being transformed into a sprawling and vibrant creative hub.

While artists from all walks of life flock to Grahamstown’s annual National Arts Festival, the rest of the year remains decidedly silent, with only the occasional large scale event.

With this opportunity, Words

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turns a bland, white wall into a colourful and creative work of art.

Art is itself a difficult industry to break into. Furthermore, the lack of recognition and appreciation, as well as the general stigma that surrounds street art makes it harder for artists like Words to live off their art.

Generally, street artists in South Africa have been trying to make their work a recognised profession in the world. To get paid for it. The art found on the streets has been compared to an open art gallery of sorts, allowing everyday people to see it.

Words argues that, “There is some thought in it, whether somebody vandalises or creates art, it’s a thought process.”

This sort of public mentality has forced many artists to quit their pursuits in the art world and conform to something that will sustain and feed them. Words doesn’t often have the resources needed to do the work he does. The very paint he uses today is comprised of various leftover colours donated by friends.

The limited palette range does not limit his creativity however.

. . . s i g n thi I am not a t. s i m r o conf

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PROFILE Words is aware that he is dancing between two worlds. One of these worlds, the seemingly more concrete of the two, requires him to conform, and to provide for his toddler son and wife. Words lifts his eyes momentarily to observe the beckoning grey clouds, pregnant and heavy with rain.

“I don’t think people were meant to go to work the whole time, we are building an idea of a minority whilst we are a majority,” he says. The other world constantly draws him to express himself in an unashamedly public and artistic way. “I’m more like a weed in that pretty garden of yours, the more you pluck me out the more I come out. I don’t need your sun to grow, I don’t need your water to grow, I will grow.” He adds the final black lines to the partially blue wall and steps back to observe his work. “It’s dome houses,” he explains. Out of the simple lines, he explains the complex story behind the art work. How traditional Xhosa dome and ecofriendly houses inspired him. “Here you see a lot of settler cottages. I asked why would you come from Europe with these designs when you avoid that place, and still build the same place you avoided?” He folds the creased paper back into his bag, and packs up the brushes. He carefully removes his wife’s gloves from his hands. “With the struggle of land and houses today these houses are the simplest to build.” And with that, Words’ latest piece is brought to the public eye.

PROFILE

RANT

So are you from here?

WORDS BY ALYX CAROLUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY FARRON SWARTZ & TEVIN TOBIAS “Are you from here?”

“So what are you?”

It’s a loaded question that many coloured people get asked on a regular (and often infuriating) basis. In school, we’re taught that this minority is simply a mixture of black and white; half and half of colonial relations.

Not only inaccurate, but also a simplistic way to describe a multi-faceted and genetically diverse community. The demographics show that coloured people make up 8.9% of the South African population – the same as white people – we live all over the country and we certainly don’t all look the same. Similarly it is difficult to explain and flesh out the term ‘coloured’ beyond the South African context; we are a product of this country that can’t be ignored.

Thus, coloured identity is not a monolith and never will be. The misguided intention that we’re a homogenous society once again reduces us to nothing more than a trope. Brown people don’t just come from Cape Town nor do we all speak Afrikaans and that’s okay. The South African media is complicit in perpetuating this harmful stereotype. You know what I’m talking about: the violent gangster in a soap opera, the loud-mouthed and promiscuous woman, the fisherman with no front teeth, and of course, the alcoholic.

I realised upon further reflection that these

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kinds of people exist because of the historical violence and displacement they faced, and still face as the supposedly outlawed dop system and the sheer oppressive forces at work continue to eat the community alive.

There’s a bitter irony in laughing at what you have created, South Africa. Nonetheless, the mediocre depiction given in the media feeds into the fact that coloured identity faces erasure amongst the rest of South Africa.

The coloured community deals with a number of issues on a daily basis, from rampant drug use and human trafficking, to teen pregnancy, alcoholism and gangsterism to name a few. There’s plenty wrong within my community regarding colourism, classism and anti-blackness that exists around every turn.

But we still deserve the space to be recognised when talking about our struggles. I wanted to write about coloured identity so I spoke to other coloured peers I’ve chatted to online and asked them what being coloured meant to them.

“It is my opinion,” writer Janine Samuels states, “that to deny the existence of colouredness or to attempt to subsume coloured identity into a more global definition of black would erase a unique space in history.”

Like people who want to be black until it’s really time to be black – some only want to be down with the brown until someone thinks you’re a criminal on sight.

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RANT I struggle to know where I fit in at times, mainly because I am former Model-C kid who went to a predominately coloured high school and then attended the university currently known as Rhodes. My identity is mapped by so many experiences and my race is often at the centre of it. And every day, when talking to my friends (both on the internet and beyond) we talk about the violence faced being a minority. As Matthew Foster, an English teacher in training, states- “It’s as if you’re constantly being intruded on so you feel a need to defend yourself on all fronts – like there’s a point to prove.”

As a coloured woman, my race is inextricably linked to my gender identity. I have countless encounters where I’ve felt degraded, but one stands out from the rest. While walking through Long Street in Cape Town, I was stopped by an older white man in a flashy car.

He had assumed that I was a sex worker. This was not the first time this had happened.

The term coloured itself causes uproar, because it has roots in apartheid but also is reclaimed with pride in other instances. The cultural appropriation I’ve witnessed is rife.

The culture being taken and made to look palatable because it’s not a brown person wearing or saying it is anger inducing. Like people who want to be black until it’s really time to be black – some only want to be down with the brown until someone thinks you’re a criminal on sight.

The equally frustrating aspect is that there is a lack of information available to the community. The more you become curious about what you could be or what your identity is, the fewer resources there are readily available to start your journey. Despite this, gradually we’re gaining more access to our stories, with more people writing our stories and others showing that there are different ways to identify. We need to be heard as loudly as possible. As Eugene Carolus mentions,” In the absence of political or economic power the Coloured voice goes unheard, thus erasing the complexity and nuance of a community

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with hopes, fears and roots that reach across the African continent and the Indian ocean.”

I used to shun my identity because I too believed that I was nothing but a stereotype.

I felt that by being out of the ‘hood, speaking a certain way and attending a ‘prestigious’ university, I was better than “those coloureds”. In hindsight, I realise I have no right to be a classist and that whatever manner coloured people present themselves is an act of survival, really. The violent realisation of being a minority is seeing how other people will dictate to you what you are and knowing you have to fight to just have your own identity acknowledged.

What I know for sure is that the only people able to make the decision about coloured identity are coloured people. We’ve been told for so long that we’re not white enough, not black enough, not “something” enough – that the only parameters that exist for us should be made by us. We’re genetically diverse, culturally diverse and certainly don’t share the same cultural markers. So in that regard, being coloured can be proudly reclaiming the terms gham and bushie or choosing to reject the usage thereof. It’s choosing to tick the ‘other’ box or not ticking any at all.

All I know is that “What are you?” is a question I certainly won’t answer anymore.

“

In hindsight, I realise I have no right to be a classist and that whatever manner coloured people present themselves is an act of survival, really.

Art has the POWER MUSIC

to

MUSIC

MUSIC

The low, languid raps of Sam Turpin WORDS BY DAVE MANN PHOTOGRAPHS BY SIMNIKIWE BUHLUNGU ILLUSTRATION BY NONHLE SKOSANA It’s often the case that musicians and artists find inspiration early on in life, be it through the household, the playground, or through other artists’ work. In Sam Turpin’s case, inspiration came by way of his mother, a photographer who dedicated much of her work to documenting anti- apartheid struggles and early HIV/Aids awareness.

If you don’t know his work yet, Sam Turpin is a Johannesburg based experimental rapper known for his low, languid vocals laid over smooth ambient beats and often characterised by visually stunning music videos, either directed by himself or his brother, Joe Turpin. Born to a British father and a Jewish mother, Turpin grew up in Yeoville before moving to the suburbs of Greenside and has been experimenting with hip hop since around 2014, although his first memories of music go way back.

“My earliest music memory is when I learned to walk. Our parents played music so that we’d step on beat,” he explains. “I guess you could say I was raised to know the power that art has to speak. Our house definitely wasn’t minimalist and there was art everywhere so I think that’s why it seems normal to me.”

To date, Turpin’s brought out two EPs, namely the 2014 Eternal Sentiment and more recently, WasiWasi which features none other than Alec Lomami. He’s also provided raps for a DJ Spoko track and put out numerous music videos, all the while, performing many a show around Jo’burg.

“It’s exciting here at the moment because we’re seeing more young artists get attention for what they do and there is an increasing amount of spaces through which they can present their art. But at the same time a lot of the show line ups look the same. I’d like to see agencies and platforms giving more young artists a chance to see their name on a poster. It would be refreshing to have somebody dope that people don’t know about open for somebody big. That would be sick.”

If you can’t be at one of his live shows, be sure to check out Turpin’s music on his Soundcloud and Bandcamp and peep his videos on Facebook and Youtube.

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FESTIVAL

I Just Remembered, I Didn’t Write You A Review.

(A Zakifo Muzik Festival Memoir) WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY ROBYN PERROS "You have the worst dance moves I have ever seen," a drunk friend yelled over the smooth whisky voice of Vusi Mahlasela pouring out from the stage in front of us. I watched my limbs drift like lost kelp through an ocean of lasers. My joints pop like firecrackers on tarmac and my muscles defy the restricting skin above them, as my body navigated through the dark like a bat. He was right. I did have the worst dance moves we had ever seen.

He continued to stare, as I smiled a little wider and jumped a little harder, shaking the palm trees from the Kwa-Zulu concrete.

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Unscathed and unashamed – I continued to dance – hoping that my worst dance moves would pierce his memory like a spear and stay there forever. For I would rather be seen at my worst, than not seen at all. I would rather be remembered for the real, the imperfect and true, than not remembered at all.

In a way, this tiny isolated moment of innocent inhibition sums up my experience of Durban’s Zakifo Muzik Festival. In a way, it sums up today’s modern youth culture. In a way, perhaps it could sum up everything if we had the patience to truly see.

Whether we admit it or not, we all want to be seen.

Whether it’s on a wall, on a catwalk, in a book or on a stage. We all want to be remembered. It seems people today will do whatever it takes to be seen and not forgotten.

But I would rather be truly seen and remembered by a select few, than merely looked at and recalled by the masses.

With the small crowds present at Zakifo this year, I hope the festival shared the same sentiments as I. I saw a small portion of the festival through a 50mm lens of a faulty film camera my step-father had given me.

It's my favourite camera. It's the one I shoot the things I want to remember on. It's the one I remember every shot I planned out. It's the one that rips my heart out each time a roll of film comes out blank.

It's the one that makes every fleeting, mundane, imperfect moment unforgettable for me.

Our greatest archive is our own memory. It’s our internal internet, our personal bookshelf, our most three-

dimensional photo album.

With so many reviews, news, and daily media flashfloods, remembering it all is an impossible feat. So I choose to keep my memories and own interpretations close. For they are mine and ultimately, for me alone, do they truly matter.

I will remember Zakifo as the time I had the opportunity to stand front row and inhale some of the most remarkable musicians in the world, like Songhoy Blues, Vaudou Game, Inna Modja, Blitz The Ambassador, Maya Kamaty, Vusi Mahlasela and Kid Franscescoli.

I will remember it as the time I was able to get out of the surf, and walk across the street to listen to some of the best music in Africa – with the Indian Ocean still sticky on my skin.

I will remember it as the time I was young and beautiful and danced like the world was going to end.

I will remember it for the people. The ones that

make me proud to be human.

I will remember it for all the images I shot, even the dozens that didn’t come out.

Even though Zakifo may not have been perfect; like each photograph and memory is for me, it is important.

Festivals like Zakifo should be remembered. Even if only by a few. For it’s just the start of something new in Africa, something positive in the world. Something to be treasured, something to be seen.

And when I see it again in the future, I will say to myself ‘yes, I was there at the beginning.’

And each time I recall those moments. The ones where I was truly present, truly myself and truly moved – my dear friend, not only will you see me dance, you will see me fly.

A few of Robyn’s Zakifo images were also featured on OkayAfrica. You can check them out here.

35mm shootouts and portraiture at Zakifo Musik Festival PHOTOGRAPH BY NIAMH WALSH-VORSTER

WORDS BY DURBAN CENTRE FOR PHOTOGRAPHY

At this year's Zakifo Musik Festival,the Durban Centre for Photography (DCP) pitched its gazebo, set up chairs and a stall, a makeshift photography gallery, photo booth, and with their 50mm lenses ready, documented the hell out of Zakifo! Photographers Busani Gcabashe, Niamh Walsh-Vorster, Thanda Kunene, Lungelo Junior 'Juice' Makhanya and Sibusiso 'Shaka' Ngcobo of DCP share their thoughts and photographs on the two day festival in an unpretentious and super chilled Durban style.

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1.What have you learnt from DCP that helps you when photographing live music / festivals?

Busani: For me what I have learnt at DCP is that you must work for your image and never stop making photographs.

Thanda: The quality and efficiency of delivering imagery through creativity whilst being technically aligned.

Juice: Music like photography is a medium of portraying a message and in that way I have learnt to look for the message in the live performances and I try and show these emotions in the artist.

Niamh: DCP pushes a lot of art talk and philosophy which I think is great, so you go into a situation after having thought about what you want to photograph and how you are conscious and in the moment when you make it!

PHOTOGRAPH BY BUSANI GCABASHE

2. What do you look for when photographing live music?

Busani: I always look for emotion, expression and movement, because that is what musicians give us when theyy do their performance.

Thanda: The motion of people when they are not expecting euphoria to hit them.

Juice: I look for many things when photographing live music: emotion, creativity in the performance , then depending on the artist ,there are the home made instruments (these always inspire my photography), last but most importantly I look for the passion of the artist ‌how s/he sings, interacts with the audience.

Shaka: When I'm photographing live music I look for close up portraits.

Niamh: New ways of photographing well known faces, maybe a face covered with a hand, for example.

FESTIVAL 3. What is the biggest challenge about making photos at gigs.

Busani: My biggest challenge is to make a good image and try to avoid microphones or any instruments.

Thanda: Beer spills on the camera and make-up stains from people hugging the photographer whilst wearing white t-shirts.

Juice: the biggest hiccup I would say, is being mindful of other photographers with light enhancements (can't stand it), one can also miss the show while in the midst of photographing.

Shaka: The biggest challenges are when someone uses a flash and poor lighting onstage.

Niamh: Not getting in the way, I think. Of security, of people who paid to watch the music and even the musicians. The show's not about us.

PHOTOGRAPH BY SIBUSISO ‘SHAKA’ NGCOBO

4.

Which were your best performances to photograph / listen to at Zakifo?

Busani: Kwesta, I really like this new South African hip-hop because now it's more than about music, it is the story you can tell about their culture.

Thanda: Simon The Robot AKA Sibot and VJ Cressida!

Juice: Brother Moves On (always the best), Too Many Zoos, Driemanskap, Estere, Inna Modja.

PHOTOGRAPH BY BUSANI GCABASHE

PHOTOGRAPH BY LUNGELO JUNIOR ‘JUICE’ MAKHANYA

MUSIC

DAKOTA

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MUSIC

WORDS BY DAVE MANN ILLUSTRATION BY NONHLE SKOSANA

MUSIC

For those of you who don’t know, the Ja. editorial team spent much of their student days in the infa nightclub, Monastery (now called 37 on New). Back then it was a crumbling student digs turned nig raging bonfires, high stacked speakers, and illegal trading hours. The club played host to many bud was Debbie Potgieter, more commonly known across the local Drum and Bass scene as Dakota. Ov Dakota has made a name for herself as one of the most passionate DnB DJs on the Cape Town scen the DJ and fellow Monastery regular for a quick Q&A on her love for bass music.

When and how did you first get into music?

My passion for music started at an early age. I had the upper hand because I have two older siblings and a dad with great taste in music. I grew up with Queen, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, Queens of the Stone Age to name a few. But it was when I moved to Grahamstown to study that I was first introduced to bass music. It completely changed the way I perceived, listened to, and enjoyed music. There is something so undeniably interesting about bass music.

a super close family. We even have our own little Facebook page called Rum n Ass where we get to geek out about new tracks and artists that we love.

But I in no way feel like the scene is dead. The beautiful thing about Drum and Bass is that it’s been going for 20+ years and refuses to die. Genres come and go. Look at dubstep as an example, but drum and bass is that old bat that refuses to die.

Similarly, how do you think the local scene compares to international DnB scenes?

A few months ago Goldie, the More specifically, has DnB always been godfather of drum and bass, graced a love of yours or is it something you the South African shores and played grew into? at the CTEMF. He was an absolutely The more and more I went to phenomenal performer. He spent a Monastery nightclub in Grahamstown, good 20% of the gig handing off his the more my interest for bass music nearby monitor in a longing embrace, grew. I started spending my free time turning every now and then to the researching artists and downloading crowd to mouth his undying love for the tunes. While I loved all sorts of bass, I music he was playing. Goldie, a man found myself gravitating towards Drum who has been intricately involved in the and Bass. I can’t explain why I love it so scene since 1991 (the year I was born) much. It could be the high energy bpm to this day, still unconditionally loves or the culture of the scene, but I was the music. I think his performance is and still am completely hooked. a euphemism for the entire local and international scene.

As a genre, DnB seems to be often overlooked in the South African Who are a few local DnB DJs we electronic music landscape. Why do you should look out for? think that is?

The first person you need to look I might sound like a complete hipster out for is Pretoria based Chee. His when I say this but the fact that DnB productions are phenomenal and is often overlooked in SA is why I love the international DnB scene has it so much. The scene in Cape Town is taken note of that with releases super small and as a result of that it is on Underslung, Buygore, Upscale

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etc. Secondly ALXR, deep drum and bas runs the 1210 podc Amsterdam based N is my favourite Sout podcast (I am very p my 1210 bumper st ALXR has also been to some big record the UK and is my fa Cape Town based D Other names to look for are Phaze (next production), Blakfro one of my homies, a Truant, one of the original Monastery DJs. You can find al of these artists on Soundcloud. Show some support!

amous Grahamstown ghtclub, known for its dding DJs, one of which ver the past few years, ne. We caught up with

, he produces ss rollers and cast with Niems. 1210 th African proud of ticker). n signed labels in avourite DJ. k out level ost, and

ll

INSTAGRAM

The supersaturated creativity of Mosa Anita Kaiser WORDS BY DAVE MANN

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INSTAGRAM

This edition’s featured IG artist uses the medium of photography as a creative outlet, often focusing on post production to twist and transform her original images into entirely new and enhanced works.

Having grown up in a small town in the Freestate, Mosa Anita Kaiser is currently completing a BA majoring in Art Studio Practice, Art History & Visual Culture and Politics, in Grahamstown. Carving drawings into her mother’s furniture and cutting out shapes from the leaves off her pot-plants are amongst her earliest memories of engaging with art, and now of course, she includes art in almost every aspect of her life.

“Creativity has always been a thing for me, in whatever form. I can’t really claim to have had any epiphany or specific moment about wanting to be involved with ‘the arts’ but, in the past my relationship with ‘the arts’ has kinda been the opposite.

I’ve had moments where I’ve strayed away and every single time, I find myself gravitating right back into it,” she explains.

While the artist experiments in the realms of painting,

sculpture and even hair, Kaiser’s strength lies in her photographic work.

Splitting her photography into conceptualised projects and spontaneous, in-themoment works allows Kaiser the freedom to experiment with her art while at the same time, hone the skills she’s learned throughout her studies, ultimately providing a striking and far reaching body of work. Instagram, explains Kaiser, is the perfect sequential and fleeting platform for this work.

“Most pictures that I take of myself are spontaneous and there’re others that just come from a message I’d want to communicate in that moment. I kind of use Instagram as a visual diary or scrap book for things I’m working on,” she says. “I also have a tendency of posting things and then deleting them after an amount of time and that has to do with the things I’d like to communicate in the

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moment. Once the moment’s gone I’d sometimes like the picture to be gone with it. The temporality of Instagram is great like that.”

Perhaps one of the most prominent aspects of Kaiser’s work is her incorporation and manipulation of colour.

Her images, favouring bold colour from the onset, are later tweaked and enhanced in her post production phase, which she often spends most of her time working on. The result sees intoxicating and arresting pieces of work, wholly hypnotic in their makeup.

“I love colour, I’m really about things that are highly saturated so I’ll incorporate this highly saturated feel in editing processes. Everything already has colour, it’s just cool to see what happens when reality is twisted and exaggerated and pumped up.”

Find more of Mosa Anita Kaiser’s work on her Instagram and Tumblr.

INSTAGRAM

INSTAGRAM

INSTAGRAM

INSTAGRAM

POETRY

survivors eyes survivor eyes remain wide-alive like the startled-ready creature, Days’ predator light caught in nights dead blanket you see it the sharpened appetite the statued fight no attack nor surprised surprise mission heavy with frantic cries behind, oh survivor eyes fascinate the replete and needless, to say like me - Zia Dee

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illustration by nonhle skosana

POETRY

If I threw a bad poem at you would you pick it up? uncrumple the paper uncrease the words would you weigh it in your hands? and measure my worth.

Calmly red mark my line breaks correctly punctuate me, fix my imagery: So that stars sing and trees tree and all the things that couldnt be could be.

- ISABEL RAWLINS

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POETRY

PHOTOGRAPH

BY ANDY MKOSI

POETRY

UK hulu Well I do. Her hands hands-on, curtains off the wall.

No time spent sitting around.

She rises with the sun, to clean our Sheets to be ironed, home; sweep the yard; make heaps Garden to be done, Toilet to be cleaned, from the grass cuts and pile up trimmings from the windbreaker And outside windows to be mirror screens. tree.

The spirit of a slave. The soul The wobbly wheelbarrow, from years of slaving, is filled to the top. of a light in a cave. The grand grandma.

And off to the pit-hole I will push, Those early hours, barely slept, to to the fire-spitting-fla mes that heat the waters as warm as your she has already tendered to. love.

Breakfast by the bed-side, Tirelessly she labours, with not a moment spared to break, A sprinkle of care and kindness in every bowl I tasted with my being.

Her backbone bent and My Childhood Home was and straightened every semi-second, For as long as I’ve lived and much remains you. The source of strength. longer before.

Midday struck with its ultra-solar I thank you for my life. I thank But her sunlit face always to the the Lord for yours.

May you live forever! ground never showing strain or wear.

There is always something We escape the scorching elements someone must do, and the work is never done. and seek shade in the veranda.

My beloved grandma, still she works.

- NuBlaccSoUl 34

POETRY

“Believe Religion/ Be-living-in Religion�

Good or bad, stand for something.

But if you worship nothing, what is the sequel?

Is nothing holy or evil?

If you worship the devil, they say the soul becomes evil.

If you worship God only, they say the soul becomes holy.

Religion is an association, of various variety beliefs.

The worshiping system organization, created for people to conceive.

Yes I read the Bible & recently started reading the Quaran.

The biggest mystery is the human cycle, so reading both books is nothing wrong.

For the greater good of mankind, all religions are equal.

But don't be biased & blind, to not see that religion was created by people.

Hear no Devil!

See no Evil!

Yet there is corrupted people, just can't hide from what is real.

The first political movement was religion, for humanity something to believe in.

Mistakenly made of - THABISO RUDY MOTSEATSEA

following, with the origin of history not knowing.

Through art, God wants me in haven.

"Our Father, whom art in haven". not for religion, don't call me illuminate because my opinion to you 'hasi-ye-monati' Am not preaching hate, just challenging your faith.

My thoughts are not up for debate.

There's only one God, aren't we all saints?

Good or bad, stand for something.

But if you worship nothing, what is the sequel?

Is nothing holy or evil?

POETRY

Fragile Leather petals drop from a corpse bloom.

Tanned velvet tears strip from my fingertips leaving bare the bud under my corolla skin.

I do not have thick skin.

I do not have skin at all.

Naked sinew striations of my sensitive core shiver: I am fragile.

- Christopher Mc Arthur 36

PHOTOGRAPHY

Bringing contemporary fashion to the streets A Q&A with Lonwabo Zimela WORDS BY DAVE MANN AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY LONWABO ZIMELA A Durban based photographer, Lonwabo Zimela, specialises in fashion photography and portraiture, often imbuing those in his work with remarkable colour, be it in the way of clothing or location.

Having first fallen in love with fashion in 2012 through a copy of GQ South Africa, Zimela began to experiment seriously with photography in late 2014 when he bought a point-and-shoot camera. Since then he has gone on to create images for GQ by photographing Amaroto for their GQnA as well as documenting street style at #CoolOutVintage. Recently, he has begun fusing street styles into his photography and sharpening his skills.

Dave Mann caught up with Zimela for a quick Q&A on his work and his thoughts on local fashion photography.

You got into fashion around 2012 and photography towards 2014, but what’s your earliest impressionable memory of photography or art in general?

During the school holiday’s in 2009. I was in the 11th grade and my sister who was studying Photojournalism at Rhodes University invited me to the Grahamstown Arts Festival. During my stay there I was exposed to a lot of art, music and photography. That experience is what I believe sparked the creative flame in me.

Tell me a bit about your use of colour in your work?

When I got into photography, I only did black and white. After a few months I had a change of heart as I felt I was too comfortable and I was limiting myself creatively. I started using colour backgrounds and got my subjects to wear colourful clothing to better express myself and leave a lasting impression on the viewers.

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Some of your images see a departure from the traditional locations used in much fashion style photography. How do you go about scouting and choosing locations for your work?

When I’m not shooting, I invest a lot of time driving around scouting for locations that haven’t been used before by other photographers and/or ones that are “too risky” to use.

As far as fashion style photography in SA goes, what would you say the state of it is in the mainstream and what would you like to see more of?

It’s growing, at a rapid rate at that. Which is wonderful to witness and be a part of. I’d love to see major brands and magazines incorporate less studio and more street in their campaigns and publications.

Lastly, what is the power of fashion in contemporary SA and what would you like to achieve through your fashion photography?

Fashion/Style has given people, the younger generation more especially, a voice to express themselves.

That’s evident in the way people dress at The Neighbourgoods Market (Jozi), The Social Market (Pretoria) and The Urban Township (Durban). I’d love to travel more whilst documenting the evolution of style.

I’d also love to do collaborative work with Brands such as Levi’s, Adidas and Superga.

Find more of Zimela’s work on his Instagram, Tumblr, and Facebook.

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PHOTOGRAPHY

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PHOTOGRAPHY

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Why I won’t be a part of y r r u C #

d e t n e c S Bitch si as a De WORDS BY DARSHA INDRAJITH

CN: Racism, islamophobia, homophobia.

“The energy employed by Desis in opposing Banks’ comments is not evident in opposing racism, white supremacy, misogyny and homophobia.�

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RANT Azealia Banks has a history of using homophobic slurs. Earlier in May, she tweeted a homophobic slur and a few racist remarks at Zayn Malik after accusing him of copying her ideas in one of his music videos.

One of the more creative, and hilarious if it wasn’t so offensive, remarks she made towards Zayn was a “curry scented bitch” The South Asian diaspora, sometimes selfreferentially called Desi’s, and others started using the hashtag #CurryScentedBitch on Twitter, with photos of themselves as a way of “reclaiming” the slur and calling out Banks’ racism.

It doesn’t seem like an offensive campaign, but it’s also not a campaign that I, as someone of South Asian heritage, can support.

Firstly, Banks as the focal point of the campaign is one of the aspects I take issue with. Yes, Banks’ use of those slurs was wrong - but her use of derogatory words invoking degrading ideas/stereotypes is

not the same as structural racism and the systemic and systematic ways in which people of colour are discriminated against. The force of the #CurryScentedBitch campaign and the number of Desis that supported it are not in my experience, and particularly in my experiences of South African Indian communities, reflected in anti-racist activism.

In fact, anti-black racism/anti-blackness (directed at Banks) has been a feature of the campaign as well as in my experience, South African Indian communities. This insistence to not identify with black as a political category was evident in MIA’s misunderstanding of the Black Lives Matter movement, and is evident every time one of my family members refers to my “black friends” or tells me not to spend too much time outside because I’ll “get dark”.

The energy employed by Desis in opposing Banks’ comments is not evident in opposing racism, white supremacy, misogyny and homophobia.

RANT

“In fact, anti-black racism/anti-blackness (directed at Banks) has been a feature of the campaign as well as in my experience, South African Indian communities.”

It’s also pretty revealing that the #CurryScentedBitch campaign focused on the racial slurs but largely ignored the homophobic slur Banks used, and has used in the past (and attempted to defend quite poorly).

The anger and shock at Banks’ use of racial and homophobic slurs isn’t inappropriate, but it fails to take account of the societies and power structures that we, as people of colour, find ourselves in.

The mere act of being a person of colour who exists in a world that is structured against you should provide enough perspective. So, part of the problem I had with the #CurryScentedBitch campaign was that it failed to take into account the context. It was directed at Banks rather than at white supremacy and anti-blackness and ended up being used as a tool for anti-blackness. It failed to take into account that the slur #CurryScentedBitch is a product of white supremacy.

This is also why I don’t think the slur can be reclaimed. For me, it isn’t a reclamation because the power dynamics don’t exist in the same way that they exist when, for example, feminists reclaim the word “cunt”. #CurryScentedBitch is not being reclaimed in the context of white

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supremacy, but is being reclaimed in the context of this single incident involving Banks and Malik.

Twitter’s suspension of Banks’ account is a further example of how white supremacist patriarchy operates, even online. While racist, misogynistic content is reported, social media sites are hesitant to take content down or suspend accounts. In the case of a black woman using racial and homophobic slurs, however, Twitter was pretty swift to suspend her account.

While her prominence as a celebrity is probably a factor, it doesn’t remove the context or justify Twitter’s inability and unwillingness to do the same to racist, misogynistic trolls.

As a brown person of South Asian lineage in a society that values and normalises whiteness, I’ve been made fun of for eating with my hands, for having turmeric-stained fingers and for the way my food smells and looks. But, these experiences aren’t the ones that the #CurryScentedBitch campaign is calling out.

It’s not calling out or rejecting the normativity of whiteness and white supremacy in our societies, nor does it critique the assimilation and aspiration to such whiteness in many South Asian diasporic communities. So, I refuse to be part of this “reclamation”.

CONTRIBUTOR CONTRIBUTO Christopher McArthur Poet

Actor and writer. Poetry and film. McArthur comes from a long line of cardigan wearers.

Darsha Indrajith

Writer

Dave Mann

Writer, co-editor Grew up in Cape Town where he spent far too much of his high school career skipping class to skate, paint graffiti, sneak into music venues, and generally get up to no good.

Now he spends most of his time writing about all of those things

MA student in Journalism & Media Studies at the University Currently Known As Rhodes, where she also teaches digital media. She is a freelance multimedia creator. Her long and short term goal is the same: to clean her car.

Farron Swartz Illustrator

25 years old. Studied animation at The Animation School in Cape Town.

Created a film called Rankuwa.

Swartz is currently doing a BA honours in Digital Art at Wits University. Nurtures a deep love for artisan coffee and pepperoni pizza.

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RS ORS

EDITION 9 CONTRIBUTOR ILLUSTRATIONS

BY FARRON SWARTZ

Alyx Carolus Writer

Alyx is a social media manager in the Mother City and currently down with all things digital.

Volunteers her skills for NGOs and sometimes runs donation drives in her spare time.

There's a slight obsession with tattoos and gin in the mix too.

Andy Mkosi Photographer, co-editor

Cape Town based artist, who studied photography and is the eldest of two children. Mkosi is co-founder of an arts company called Jam That Session.

Busani Gcabashe Photographer

Self-taught photographer from Inanda. He has a special interest in documentary photography, with a focus on beliefs that have been passed on from one generation to another. In 2013 he trained at eKhaya Multi-Art Centre for Camera Work. 2013 he attended a two month course in filmmaking at Impucuzeko Skill and Training Development. 2015 he completed a three month course at Durban Centre of Photography for Contemporary Documentary Photography.

Isabel Rawlins

Poet

Lecturer at University of Zululand, UCKAR graduate and a lover of hulla-hooping.

Nonhle 'Nash' Skosana Designer

Currently at UCKAR, 4th year Design Major and general badass in smashing patriarchy.

Phila Dyasi Lonwabo Zimela Photographer

23 year old Durban-based creative. His love for fashion started in 2012 when his mother bought him a copy of GQ South Africa. Since then he has been fusing street style into his photography, sharpening his skill and growing as a creative. Scott Schuman, Andre D. Wagner and Rog Walker inspire and influence him. Collaborating with other creatives whilst travelling the world are on top of his growing bucket list.

Poet

Writes under NuBlaccSoUl. Their writing serves as a documentaion of life and a vehicle to share stories with the world.

Nompilo Ndlovu Writer

God-inspired storyteller and versatile writer from the world of fantasy and reality. If you are a human, she is interested in your story.

Photographer. Journalist.

Lover of Lumpy Space Princess. She goes where her feet take her.

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Lungelo Junior 'Juice' Makhanya Photographer

26, Marianhill resident and art enthusiast. Anime and hiphop obsessed. Hopes his photography can be used as a way to see the way forward without forgetting the present.

Karmen Wessels

Illustrator

Karmen writes words for ads and draws things. In her spare time she enjoys long walks with her cat, Drag Queen-based reality TV and crocheting. This edition's front page was created by Karmen!

Youlendree Appasamy Sub-editor

Feminist killjoy with bell hooks and Junot Diaz as her intellectual parents. She’s written for Grocott’s Mail in Grahamstown, The Journalist and interned at The Mercury in Durban, The Lowvelder in Mpumalanga, The Sowetan in Johannesburg and is currently working at the Mail & Guardian.

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Niamh Walsh-Vorster

Photographer, co-editor

Freelance photojournalist, occasional writer and full time Ja. groupie. Most of her time is spent on a bus exploring South Africa, or tucked into bed with a novel (South African one obvz).

Sibusiso ‘Shaka’ Ngcobo Photographer

Shaka comes from a small township called Ntuzuma near Kwamashu. He is a selftaught photographer and has been photographing ceremonies and portraits of people in his township from 2009. In 2015 he completed a three month DCP course: Contemporary Documentary Photography. He is currently researching and photographing a personal project on African traditional healers.

Thanda Kunene Photographer

Durban based photo maker and occasional DJ. Thanda hosts dope portrait parties and wishes he was a war photographer because you know, you could die.

Zia Dee Poet

Currently unlearning thousands of years of conditioning. Art Director/ Designer.

Lives in a world between antiquity and digital. Altruism. Existentialism. Pantheism.

Naturalism.

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an

nd Creators Thabiso Rudy Motseatsea Poet

Motseatsea's journey with performance art started informally at Ramaphosa Youth Forum (RAYF). Later joined Sibikwa Saturday Arts Academy in 2013. His first professional performance was in Sofia Town, acting as Mr Fafi. He is currently a first year at the Market Theatre Lab.

Tevin Tobias

Designer/ Illustrator “ I’m not a regular mom, I’m a cool mom.”

Illustration by: Tevin Tobias Background: Farron Swartz

Lumumba Mthembu

Sub-editor

Lumumba is reading for his PhD in English Literature, so we tend to get him to skim over all the articles in Ja. before we go to publishing.

Illustration by: Tevin Tobias Background: Farron Swartz

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