Miss Thengeduze Cash and Carry.

I won my first beauty pageant (by mistake) when I was 5 years old. It was Dezember and every young Immaculate, Perseverence and Delicate was entering "Miss Thengeduze Cash and Carry" which meant that I too had to enter if I wanted to secure my playground social status. My mother opposed the idea like Chomee does clothes, she didn't have money to relax my frizzy 'fro and, apparently, only girls with relaxed hair enter beauty pageants but I entered, regardless of my k-word hair.
A few days later the whole village gathered under a two-pole tent while the other contestant's and I got ready inside the shop, Miss Thengeduze Cash and carry was about to begin! My nerves were under control until Magistrate's mom asked me "why are you wearing your Sunday dress? The theme is costume!" and indeed when I looked around all the other girls were clad in swimming costumes of the latest styles and the brightest neon colours. My horror at that moment couldn't even be equated to the world's most premature ejaculation! I was close to pulling out when the Nonhle Thema in me told me to model in my sunday panty. And i did. I shoved the excess full-panty fabric into the crack of my blackgirl ass to make it look like a whitegirl thong. I walked into the tent with Connie Ferguson's confidence, swaying my hips and sticking out my bare chest for the excited crowd! "MODELA MODELA". I spanked my butt cheek, snapped my fingers and turned around, smiling from fake beauty spot to fake beauty spot. I was releived until I found out there was a questions section where Malum' Meshack {owner of Thengeduze Cash and Carry} would ask us random questions. I didn't like speaking in front of lots of people and I certainly didn't like talking to MEN so when Malum Meshack asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up, instead of saying "madam", I said what my favourite soapie actress used to say to men who spoke to her. "who do you think you are? How dare you!", I replied in English and the crowd went MAD! Stokvel ladies were hululating while the church ladies fainted! Taxi drivers started fighting with each other in joy! "Nondindwa can speak English! Nondindwa can speak English!". People were excited by the fact that a 5 year old Blackgirl could utter a few English words, even if they were severely out of context, even if she didn't know what they meant, the fact that she said it in English when all the other girls spoke isiZulu was enough reason to crown her Miss Thengeduze Cash and Carry! I went home with a brand new electrical Iron and a box of Jam Alley chocolate bars. Soon the Gospel of the English-speaking blackgirl reached the neighbouring villages and they invited me to compete in their pageants. I went on to win Miss Asiduri Trading Store, Miss foot-sack tuck shop, Miss Fundanawe Creche and many other pageants by uttering the same English words. I was celebrated for speaking a language whose words I did not understand and whose history I did not know. I was never applauded for my excellent isiZulu, only English matterd. Even today, I struggle to associate my own language with sophistication and intelligence and that beauty pageant is to blame. The seeds of self-hate and inferiority were planted in me and now they have grown into a vicious thornbush that pricks me everytime I try to destroy it. It's the same with South Africa, the seeds of self-hate and inferiority were planted over 300 years ago in the minds of blackgirls and the thornbush is still alive. And growing. Are we brave enough to cut ourselves in the process of trying to uproot it? Are we brave enough?

Anna Wintour has a rival!

Her style is what I live for right now!! like, uyangichaza losisi!!!! Zanele Magwaza Msibi you are the ultimate blackgirl style icon!! My vagia vibrates with inspiration everytime I see you at a political rally with your hurr did and your nails dick long!!! Michelle Obama can go lock herself in the kitchen.

Queen Khabonina

I love Khabonina vele!!! She is my Oprah, my ultimate role Modella!! She is the epitome of vaginal consciousness!!! PONYO!

Summertime Bazala

It is the first of september, ke Summertime Bazala! For a day, forget about Malema and the political dilemma. Forget about the strikes, forget about Gaddafi, forget about Nationalisation and all that crap in the political arena! Forget about your neglected vagina and your quantum desires and wear that t-shirt that says "siyabangena!". It is summertime (spring if you are white, mzala)! It is time replace that heavy polyester trench coat from small street with a lighter polyester sequinned mini-dress from small street. It is time to trade in your 8 layer, 22 inch red weave for something a little shorter and cooler, a red razor-cut with blue highlights perhaps? Or maybe even a Khethiwe-esque afro or a Sharon style s-curl? Whatever fondles your groin, Blackgirl, the summertime is yours! Close that summer magazine with an article on "how to starve yourself for the perfect bikini body" and go out into the summertime madness! Wear your silver, cellulite exposing, bum shorts with your shiny gold bikini top and go to the carwash! Wash those quantums in all your half-naked glory! Let the African sun give your smooth cleavage a "lamza"! Let you testicles dance in the summer breeze, Blackman. Burn your worries and your blackgirl problems in the 'mbaula' that kept your toes warm in the winter. It is a new day, a new weave, today! The taxi rank is in disarray!
So Mzala forget about it all, just for today.

Zille's white girl!

Mamba, my criminal lover!

I was in love with Black Mamba, the notorious village thug. He used to steal calculators and cellphones for me in highschool and he gradually progressed to stealing Velocities and Gusheshes. I used to visit him at his mother's shack while she was out drinking, he would braai amaPieces while I make iColeslaw and we would have a romantic feast and then he would call me "slender sama catalogue" to let me know that his little black mamba was aroused and we would indulge in a romantic slumber! He was, indeed, a committed and passionate lover who sexed me a little rougher than the others however, after spending more time with Black Mamba, I realised there was more to the brother than angry sex. Mamba, like most criminals, had made peace with the fact that he lives in a society where he had no destiny to dicover, no dreams to fulfill, no wealth to devour and that angered him! His anger was exacerbated by the fact that the people in power seem to have forgotten about the dire state of the poor, he felt betrayed and robbed of the opportunities that he diserved as much as much as Sandra from Sandton did. He was tired of watching the lines that devide society go darker, tired of being excluded from the promise of this country and he had to watch the same people who decieved him promise to shoot and kill him. He had to look at the spiteful face of consumerism everyday until he said "voetsek, i'm gonna steal". By stealing, he regained the manhood that had been stolen from him by the "system" and now he could afford to buy me ultramel and braaipacks and maybe send his children to school, it was all a hijack away. Now, I do not support crime but I'm also not quick to judge criminals and i feel that as a Blackgirl it is my responsibity to tell the story from a different set of boobs. We all feel victimised when somebody steals from us or the ones we love and we all want justice to be served but what is "justice"? Will arresting that hijacker really decrease the crime rate? Really? What about the socio-political injustices? It seems to me that criminals are merely the symptom of a darker, much deadlier disease and i wait for the day when the world decides to cure the cause. This is a bad weave and the more we comb it the frizzier it becomes. We have to change it.

Our situation is no different from london, this is a blackworld problem. The dangers of an unequal society are fatal!

Mamba is now a number 26 in Jail. I miss you, sthandwa!

Nondindwa's song-book.

If your adolescence was anything close to black then you definately would have had a croxley 72 page excercise book adorned with pictures of Brandy and Tamia from Bona Magazine as well as song Lyrics precariously gathered from Metro-fm or copied from Refiloe's advanced songbook. You would have played "come a little bit closer" by Brandy while thinking about that boy with the most prominent baritone in the church choir or "the boy is mine" by Brandy and Monica when you catch Charity sitting in your man's gusheshe. If you were in love with the "city boy" who visits your village every Dezember, you would play "still" by Tamia when you miss him and if you were dating a schoolboy the appropriate song to play would have been "bills" by Destiny's Child. Many of us blackgirls learnt how to add colour to the English language through these songbooks hence they came in handy when writing essays. It seems this blackgirl ritual dissappeared into Winnie Khumalo's cleavage and It made me sad to see such an important part of blackgirl heritage go down the drain. I declare this a national crisis and I urge all the blackgirls of the Sharon D generation to pass down the song book tradition to young teenagers. It is your civil duty to teach those girls the art and science of blackgirl songbooking!!

Ps:Ndinithanda nonke emakhaya!

Women.Women.

"it's a girl!". Those are usually the words uttered by new parents who couldn't afford an ultrasound after they see the innocent slit in between the newborn baby's thighs. The newly born future woman will be named Matlakala or after her mom's madam, Meredith or maybe Mbali or even Mlungu if she's a light-skinned blackgirl, it all depends on whatever her parents can pull out of their overjoyed (or frustrated) asses. Matlakala will be dressed in pretty pink and other typical "girly" colours, she will learn how to say Mama or Tata if she's lucky enough to know her father, she will learn how to decapitate Barbie and how to sit without exposing her vagina when she's wearing a skirt. Her parents will send her to school where she will be teased for being fat, being an albino, being darker than dark or for having old school shoes. She will fight to play the Mother role in the game of "house" (we all know what goes down when kids play house). A few years later she will go to highschool where she'll learn about dick and menstruation in life orientation. She will start to notice that boys pay more attention to girls who look like the doll she beheaded when she was three years old and she will stuff her bra with toilet paper until God blesses her with breasts-the beginning of her blackgirl problems. Her mother will pass down her knowledge of domestic skills, female etiquette and all the crap she was taught in this male dominated world. She will get into trouble for sitting in the front seats of taxis and wearing short skirts. She might start dating boys or girls or older men or even her Life Orientation Teacher who will gladly offer her pre-marital sex orientation. Soon that innocent, gender defining slit inbetween her thighs will host the dicks of the unfaithful, the insecure and the abusive or maybe she'll take the dreaded route of celibacy. Who knows? She will matriculate and graduate and the real world will hit her like the sweet scent of armpit atchar, the realities and pressures of womanhood will become vivid to her. She will watch her butch lesbian friend raise the son she concieved behind a shebeen toilet during a correctional gang rape. She will see 15 year old girls being "THWALA'd" by traditionalists with a self-esteem as small their penises. She will buy loreal foundation for her friend with a blue eye. She will bury her friend who died of Aids even though she was faithful throughout her marriage.
I hate sounding like a soul city omnibus but i can't ignore that part of my vagina! Women are too "GOD" to be facing so many blackgirl problems and I applaud them all for rising from the ashes and building loving homes regardless of the darkness they face everyday.

I'd like to thank Somizi, Iko Mash, Odidi, Dj Tira and Lundi for being the tenacious, influencial and powerful women that they are. They have been a big inspiration in my life.
Happy Women's Month.

fabulosity!!! ssssssssss!!!!

That's me and my sexxxy millionaire!!! His dick is as long as my red nails . . . . sssssss

Nondindwa's two-sex: black skin.

Before I open my legs, I'd like to apologise for my week long celibacy, an inconsitent blog is like a weak erection and nobody likes those. . .

Anyway, since I'm the self proclaimed Oprah of Blackgirl nonsense, I thought i should create "Nondindwa's two-sex", a column where I can subrcribe blackgirl products from diet pills to skin-care products and give my two-cents on the product just like Oprah!

It makes sense for me to start with the God of all blackgirl Jesus's: PONDS. This magical face cream is the staple in million's of Lindiwe Vilakazi handbags, It's the reason why most taxi rank sluts have pale faces and dark arms and it's a symbol of hope to the dark blackgirl who has issues with being black. If you want your hair to be pulled out, steal a blackgirl's tube of ponds.
The advert for Pond's cream goes something like this: "pond's destroys all those dark skin cells, revealing your natural even skin tone". . . Because being dark is an unnatural disease that can be cured by a cheap day cream. Because being light is every blackgirl's destiny, get white or die trying. Because lighter or "natural" girls get more attention from tenderpreneurs with wallets as thick as their phalluses. Because black is ugly and Jesus is white. Try it! You can agree or disagree with my untamed vagina but you cannot ignore the fact that alot of skin-care products aimed at black women take advantage of the never ending brainwash residues and that alot of blackgirls have been obnubilated in order to make money. Maybe my objection is tainted by my emotions but then again this blog is, after all, a pit latrine for my shitty opinion. What do YOU think, blackgirl?

Chakalaka

These are my girls!! I am so proud them for making it so far in the "Step up or Step out" dance competition that plays on Etv every sunday, considering that blackgirls are not taken seriously thanks to the new breed of delusional krumpers with oversized sneakers and stuffed nickers. My vagina dries up in agony everytime i hear them going on about haters from neverland in their faux-American accents. There is no doubt that the commercial success of South African dancers and musicians depends on how well they mimic American artists which is why I was shocked that Chakalaka even made it through the first round of auditions. Maybe we have Arthur (bless his dick) Mafokate's presence in the judging panel to thank for that. I hope not.
Chakalaka is fighting in the same blackgirl battle against Church ladies who disapprove of our dress code. Black people have, all of a sudden, adopted the European concept of conservate dress -a concept that came on a boat. Chakalaka, through their dancing, make a powerful feminist statement that encourages blackgirls everywhere to embrace their erection inspiring figures without worrying too much about a concept that was made by an insecure white man to prevent women from realising their power.

I hope i see more hip shaking, leg splitting, weave disassembling, pelvis thrusting and booty hopping moves from Chakalaka! Nondindwa loves you Chakalaka, don't drop yourselves in the water!

i love you Juju!!!

We all have our own lousy opinion about Julius Malema and his perpetual controversy, I dont even know why I'm blogging about him because the world is talking about him like HIV already.

The DA announced that they want SARS to look into his wealth , I want to look into his underpants!!! I think it is safe to conclude that Julius Malema has the biggest penis in politics! It's large enough to unravel any red plastic weave and I want mine to be the first because i know he can afford to buy me another one. If he is as fierce and thorough in bed as he is at ANC rallies, he can make me his sex slave any day! He is every blackgirls dream. . . .
Nondindwa loves you JUJU

Makarapa lover

This is Benifactor, my Makarapa lover, who is watching the Pirates vs Hotspurs game with me at Nandi's Mnandi Shebeen at this very moment. Everybody is wearing their Pirates soccer Jerseys and Makarapa Helmets, I am showing my support by wearing my white linen bootleg pants; silver belt; black skin top and leather jacket as well as my white open-top cap. I can tell that Nandi is jealous of my opulent ensemble (her and I dont get along ever since she found her husband's black label in my mouth).
I have become very fond of soccer and it's therapeutic qualities for men. Soccer gives men the opportunity to release the emotions that they have learnt to suppress for manhood's sake. It allows the men to cry together without being called "sister Betina". Soccer gives our men the opportunity to climb on top of each other in joyful groin-to-groin hugs without being called names. It even gives them the chance to wear black and white wigs and make up, something they don't allow themselves to do everyday and if men had to fuck each other in the name of soccer it would be acceptable. If i had to dump Benifactor tonight, he'd realease the anger at the next soccer match (irradication of women abuse).
My nipples are erected by the bright spectrum of intense emotions coming from these men, it is truly a beautiful site and I am aware of the sexual benefits of an emotionally stable man which is why I am going home with Benifactor tonight.

VIVA Pirates!! (gives vuvuzela a blowjob)

Goodenough, buyela ekhaya!Goodenough, buyela ekhaya!

i love this show. I do! Andile is a hot blondarexic bitch who hosts a show as real as her blonde pubes!! The show gives me the same feeling i get when my heels break in public and i am forced to walk barefoot, its a hot slap of reality that weakens the glue that bound me to a fantasy. Very little shows do what khumbulekhaya does to me. Even with a host who talks like a radio zulu advert for love muti, Nondindwa still takes an hour of her whoring time to listen to the sad but common stories of black South Africans who have left their homes in pursuit of bigger penises and shinier weaves or to escape family conflict and toilet seat drama. Some left home to fight for the freedom of our country and never came back. Some left home to buy ultramel and never came back. Some went to work in the city and found a woman with a behind large enough to make them forget about the homes they left behind. I relate to these stories because i am no different to all those people with funny names who are desperate to reunite with their loved ones. I have a father who went missing a few months after i was born and nobody has heard of him ever since. Like most of the people on Khumbulekhaya i do not know the reasons for his departure but unlike them i do not have the courage to search for him. So, without going any deeper in my emotional vagina, you can see that this show presents a hardcore reality and it diserves the title "reality show" more than Nonhle Thema's show. I love Khumbulekhaya as much as Andile loves hydrogen peroxide and i hope we will see more people being reunited (and more fabulous names)!

Nondindwa, buyela ekhaya.

Captain Mildred.

Dear diary

Mildred is a Quantum driver (i have class, i dont go for anything below quantum). He gives me free rides to the salon and buys me red-squares and gizzard kebabs when we go out at night. Sometimes, after a hectic night, we will go back to his Quantum where he will play Zondi's Romantic Ballads while we have some fun in the backseat. He has given me financial support eversince i was 14 years old so you can only imagine how special he is to me.
After Nkululeko Buthelezi announced that Santaco will be launching a Taxi Airline in September, spasms of excitement hit my vagina and tears of joy smudged my blue mascarra -Mildred is going to be a Pilot!! THANKS GOD! Besides the fact that he will finally be able to afford the set of AMC pots and tupperware containers that i've always wanted, he will be part of a revolution. It's about time taxi drivers do something other than cause accidents and break traffic law. I don't care whether you've had a fucked up experience with a leather jacket clad zulu driver or not, you have to acknowledge the contribution taxis have made to the black economy. They have provided fast and inexpensive transportation to a group of people who would have otherwise struggled to get to work. The fact that the taxi industry has grown rapidly regardless of their frizzy plastic weave of a reputation is proof that the government has ,after countless efforts, failed in many ways to provide alternative means of transportation (gautrain my ass). I'm glad that the taxi industry is embarking on this new venture and i hope the existing service and safety problems are not boarded on the aircraft. Who knows, Nondindwa might be that proud hostess who asks you "Mogodu or Kota"

Halala Mildred! Halala!

my Red Rihanna weave, I REST!

Ebenezer bought this weave for me!!! iyangifanele neh!!!!

Oral Jewellery for Nondindwa

dear diary

I finally have a plan to defeat my financial blackgirl problems!! i want to be an undertaker! like, for real! If i dig up all the graves in Umlazi, kwamashu, Ntuzuma,Lamontville and other townships i will be a millionaire. 90 percent of Zulu people living in KZN townships have some sort of oral jewellery, be it the upside down "L" or the upside down "T" or the whole tooth covered in precious metal. Even the poorest of the poorest blackgirl can afford to pay medical Aid premiums just so that they can also embellish their dental structure. Some people even resort to street dentists who will gladly bang a gold tooth into your gums with a hammer on the corner of Garish street and Tacky avenue. This 'once upon a time' status symbol has become a blackgirl rash that is slowly growing on me!i have secret desires for a golg upside down "T" on my front teeth(don't judge me, i've judged myself enough), i just have to find a Mzwakhe who drives a Quantum to pay for it! Anywho, back to me digging up graves, i will just remove all the gold teeth from the decomposed skeletons wihout disturbing their souls (Dr Love will b with me). Its a certain "new age Mining" founded by your one and only Nondindwa the Black!

PS: i kissed a guy with oral Jewellery and i LOVED IT!!!!

we Baba ka Mdudu!!

Uyangichaza losisi!!! Nondindwa has experienced the same black girl problem. sies Madoda! SIES!!!

homos in Church, Amen.

okay, so I've tried the whole blogging thing a few times before, hoping that i too would become an overnight sensation and get alot of free tickets to fabulous events and alot of free wine and free friends and free fame but this is not one of those blogs. I intend on making this Blog nothing but a pit latrine for my shitty opinions about shitty life experiences and a dancefloor for my red-rihanna-weave of a mindset, who knows who might relate to my nonsense and end up sharing my pit latrine? Anyhooo, lets not waste anymore time and get to the point. Here's Nondindwa's first Diary Entry. enjoy!!

Dear Diary

last year my sister Candidate and I decided that we were going to wear man-skirts to the end of year fashion show at the University of Jwanisburgh to express our love for the androgynous trend that took South African fashionistas by storm. I, being the one with a more severe madness, decided I'd wear a long, pleated black skirt, a black shirt with ruffles and a priest's collar. I ended up looking like a gay priest and that is where my fascination with the idea of an existing gay priest began.

Christians, especially Catholics, are infamous for being one the most intolerant religions towards homosexuality, calling it a "sin" in the eyes of God etc. so i wouldn't blame you if you thought a gay catholic priest could not not exist, i thought so ,too. Think again. After my tragic move back to my village in KZN early this year, I have observed alot of gag-reflex-inducing realities that left me feeling sad. My family is Catholic and i am expected to be Catholic as well so i attend Church every single sunday (well maybe I've bunked a few times)and i couldn't help but notice the Priest's effeminate gestures that made my gaydar beep itself to sef-destruction, i dont think it is okay to assume somebody's sexual orientation just by the way he/she acts, sexuality goes deeper than that but i think (and i think most of you will agree)it is true most of the time. After church my heterosexual friend raised the topic as if he were reading my mind and, to my surprise, three other guys said they noticed the same thing.a few months later i was forced to go to one of those youthday church marathons where i encountered more than a dozen young men of my age who would, in gay terms, qualify as "fairy",most of them had high positions in the church and solos in the church choir and would probably be Priests in a few years time. That made me wonder how it would make me feel to be in their shoes and it dawned on me that if i hadn't gone to study in Jo'Burg ,which is where i was exposed to a more tolerant and progressive social environment, i would probably be like that. My community, like most rural black communities, is homophobic and it is almost impossible to live an open life without dealing with social rejection or worse, rejection by your family. It then became clearer to me that, in a rural, homophobic, catholic and depressingly conservative community being a Priest is a convenient sacrifice. firstly, you wont have to explain to people why you have never had a girlfriend. secondly, you will be embraced by people who would have probably rejected you if you decided to live the truth. thirdly, you will live a comfortable life in a convent with a nunery of fag hags! the list of social bebefits is endless but it comes with an emotional sixth toe that cannot be cut.that's just my opinion, everybody has the right to Jesus, gay or straight and i am not saying my reasons are real, maybe gay people genuinely have a thing for the Catholic Religion.

Oh but wait! my Grandad has requested that i attend a 5 day workshop in Richmond to become a priest(what is the universe telling me? was that outfit the beginning of something beyond me?). one of my acquaintances thinks it's a great idea because he has never seen me with a girl therefore i qualify, maybe my feminine nature was the reason my grandfather chose me.i dont know. hmmmmm.. . . let me see, wearing a dress without getting nasty remarks sounds fabulous plus I'll get to be the boss of straight men(how tempting)and THE HAGS!! . . . sigh. . My answer is NO. I will not be the boss of a religion that does not accept my people and i definately wont preach against myself.

Amen Lundi
Amen Dr LOve
Amen Nondindwa.