104 Mhlanga Avenue, MBARE

104 Mhlanga Avenue, MBARE

By Richard Fani

My home address itself signifies violence. Your perception about me is associated with criminology, drug using, sex offending and many other negativity. You think my body is tattooed from head to toes. Instead of asking me which church I go to, you ask me how many times I’ve been arrested?

Is it a sin? Is it a crime? Is my fault that I was born in the low income house suburb (ghetto?) Is it my fault that I couldn’t finish high school because my mother couldn’t afford that for her four bad boys?

Your analogy and perceptions about me is clearly mis-OVER-stood, f*cked up. (Yeah, I know you been wondering when I would say the F-WORD, so f*ck it)

My home address is my birth defect. It’s hard to get a job out there and even harder to keep it. Employers just don’t trust my physical address. So, whenever they ask for a CV I fabricate where I’m coming from just so they can accept me. Human Resource conducts an employee audit and realized I lied about my identity, and so I begin to look for another job (like there are any other jobs).

Politicians visits us every day (I mean these days now that we heading towards elections). They play to our fantasies of better days. They buy votes from us using alcohol and drugs (not money). They give us medication like we are sick patients, like they are our f*cking doctors (dictators).

NGOs make big money by taking pictures of the innocent starving and homeless little children from my neighbourhood. They talk and act like they feel pity but really they petty us. They don’t care about what’s going on with us or how we got here, they just want evidence to support what they been studying.

It’s like every rich bastards out here are praying that we remain down in poverty so that they can come and shower us (spit on us) with gifts they buy from the money they owe us. I think they love us (mis-UNDER-stood), but deep down they hate us (hurting us).

My people will do anything. My people will risk everything just for your fat bellies to realize that whilst you are full, we are starving, we are crying and we are dying (dead). Is that what we worth to you (kings), pawns waiting to be sacrificed in your games of power (bullsh*t).

You love my home address and your generosity has made me spit on your failed systems (policies). They don’t WORK (b*tches)