Builder’s love note

I hope you’ll get the sincerity of what I am stressing
I’d leave my being behind and leave you not guessing (not!)
But I know you love the mess I am so my cards I’ll keep playing.
You are such a perfect being
‘Perfect’ and ‘being’ being oxymoron but you are exactly what I am seeking.
I won’t lie and say you’re all I have got
but if you’re not here or not happy then unhappiness is all I have got.
I love u my baby,
for being pretty
for being gritty
we’re living at gods’ time so we can never be a quicky.
Before you ek het vir ander meisies ge-holla maar hulle wou nie luister
I said let’s build but they were out of their depths when we were still at the foundation
Nou hulle wil ‘pitch-in’ want hulle sien die tuin ‘n water fontein.
Ek gee hulle geen attention –
me n my stekkie is klaar gebou en wil nou pluister


This image reminded me of ‘Thaba ya Baratani’ in Botswana. That’s in Otse on the road between Gabz and Lobatse.


Dear Jabba

The fact that you have attempted to take your life on a few occasions continues to haunt me. I cannot stop thinking, but why? You surely know that you are the man. I would like to believe that at least a million of your country men and women, like me, look up to you and idolize you. Your reach and influence in fact is felt across the continent of your birth. Why do you want to end your life?

I sometimes get bored of waking up and having to ‘live’ on a daily basis. The waking up, washing, eating, driving, talking, working, etc. Every damn day. No timeouts from what can be a really tedious routine. Either dead or alive. No elective coma for a week. Do you go through the same emotions?

I am really struggling with assessing what my successes are, and with accepting that I am not the success I thought I would be. Are you going through the same struggle?

You come across as a selfless guy. Someone that gives too much of their being and resources to making others lives better. That can be a problem. Trust me, I know. You end up living for the approval of those you sacrifice for. Weird, because they can’t disappoint you but when you don’t match their expectations you suddenly realise how empty your life is. We have to be careful and not live for the approval of others.

Did I tell you that my father hung himself just over 10 years ago? I am not sure why he did that but it has a bit to do with the fact that he had fallen flat on his arse. He had lost his status, wealth, dignity and his wife was about to leave him. He worked tirelessly to provide for us and supported his wife through her business adventures and experiments. In the end they were broke, in debt and he was an alcoholic. What was there to live for? Are you at that stage? Is that how you feel?

There are probably a hundred more angles to this thing including loss of loved ones to disease, violence and other causes of death. Being rejected by a lover, a child or a group you admire. Feeling like a relic or being outdone by others even though you have given it your all. Traumatic experiences some first hand, others empathized. I don’t know where you fit into the suicidal profile and it frankly is not my business.

Here I am going on and on about things I have no business going on about. Here is the deal. You gave me a style to run with. To this day I still think of myself as a hiphop pantsula. Today it is the most normal of things but when you came out a person was either or. I was weirdly both. Grew up in the hood but moved to the burbs. I loved rap from when I heard Hammer but I went to a kwaito school. I am the duality that is a HHP.

You gave us your life in audio format. Your rich tapestry in tasteful art form. The way you have rocked so many styles and set trends, with such confidence and successfully is simply amazing. You know that you are a huge reason there is even a hip hop industry in this country. Even these new age kwaito rapper kids are your seeds.

You have given me a lot to run with and I try to apply what I learn every time I listen to your music. Positivity, creativity, humour, language, business, friendship, family relations and community to name a few.

You have given me a lot so in return I give you my gratitude, respect and love. I ask you to choose life and to chose Leano but then that is what I choose for you. Ultimately the choice is yours.

Ka lerato leo!

my nature (misc)

had my nature been sweet i wud hav sent u a tinkie

had i been feeling freaky i’d hav sent a toy with di-battery

but it’s hard to present the sound of how i feel

my love i’m being for real, why not rewind this reel…

Reel love

pretty poetry is not really my thing

but flying is, but til now i cant seem to grow a wing

(so) we cant live life like a league n just follow the fixture

at times when u step out the frame that’s when u’ll get the full picture….

Getto luv

Getto luv

only one look in their eye to see these kids is incredibly ghetto,
gang whistle or small stones on house roof more likely than ‘hello’.
serious conversations mostly filled with ‘sho’ n grunts,
funny, more descriptive diction used to describe big blunts n butts.
very a many of us to this life can relate,
altho most of us didnt adopt it, we sure appreciate it.
so show love n respect to all the ghetto boyz,
n all the ayoba ghetto missies holla back with that noyz

Baby boo

My great frienemy Beyonce sang that “if u like it then u should hav put a ring on it.” She also called some guy names, chucked him out of her house, told him how replaceable he was, and then promptly proceeded to bring out her side dish to make her point. You see, despite her most melodic voice it is exactly that feminist crap that rubs me up the wrong way.

Right. Back to that ring. Brothers, did she have to tell us that? Do these girls have to vigorously remind us every time they rush up to wrestle for the wedding bouquet? Ag, you know what? You don’t have to put a ring on nothing. The song got me thinking though. Why are we not though?

And that is not even what I worries me. I am worried that our sisters aren’t getting married, and not just because they are not getting married but rather because they are being left single and with babies. We are rendering our women damaged goods.

I work with a few women in their late twenties. Three are single mothers. A looker, a minger and an inbetweener. They vary in shape and hair styles. Their sense of humour ranges like earth, wind and fire. Two of them don’t live with their kids on a full time basis. They can’t quite carry the burden by themselves. Cash flow. Love life. City and work life. Too much. The kids have been farmed out to their grannies. So 1980’s but in this day and age.

The whole thing gets me upset. See, I love women. From a physical and a mental angle. I love them, both as a perv and as a condescending bastard. My love for women is deep yet flawed, but these are my sisters. They are also my countrymen. They deserve to be happy and to be respected. Where is the love for our sisters? Why so many hit and runs? How can we go around impregnating all these beautiful girls just to leave them vulnerable and alone? Even if you are not her Mr Right, you have now slashed her chances of finding him. You have left her with a burden. She is now your branded cow and now you don’t want her. 

With all being said to takes two to tango, and at least the same amount to get tangled up in bed. I don’t know what it is about us and making babies though. You would think with this sexually transmitted pandemic doing the rounds the second last thing people would be doing is fornicating. The very last thing would be doing that without protecting themselves. My heart bleeds for these unwanted children. I wonder how many of their mothers wish that they would have terminated.

Under the tree of life

My gosh, am I busy. Between tweeting, re-tweeting, favouring and plagiarising inspirational posts on the net I am amazed that I get in a bit more into a day. On the side I squeeze in being a gyming husband, a story time and playtime father to two toddlers, an all round cool guy and a commercial executive. Where does one fit in their dreams though? You know, those often postponed ones for world domination.

Is the middle road that cosy? The road most travelled. Far enough from the hell that is poverty yet not quite the paradise of Insta. I dare not entertain those of being poor. I flirt, no I romance the vision of sabbaticals and owning vast land and holiday homes. If my dreams could talk they would tell you what a tease I am. If only I wasn’t a limp biscuit they would tell you. You see, in the world of doers and go getters I am a spud. The sack ain’t quite dropped. I am to ambition what the lion was to Dorothy.

After finding love, children and professional qualifications you would think it would be a good time to take a breather and rest on your laurels. I swear I am ready for that midlife career nap but I swear my masters won’t let me be. Between providing for my family, extended family and my poor poor lendors I can’t stop. Won’t stop. I be on my grind on that hamster wheel, gangsta. Every summer I reflect on the year that has past and without fail I see myself inching closer to that cheese. Never mind who moved it.

Oh yeah, so where were we? Dreams. Wishes. Probably the strangest of ideas to a toddler but the essence of man really. The stuff that moulds a thousand men into a thousand individuals – even though all are born equal and created in his image. Dreams. The modern day forbidden fruit. After this incredibly boring trek through the concrete jungle my Eve and I have discovered the tree of life. What I feel in its shade is serenity. I thirst for the fruit of this tree. This evening I feast on the its fruit.