The Whitman Independent

A resurgence of alternative pulp art movements reminiscent of the insurgent 80's South Africa is on the prowl in the shady alleys of a city between two towers.

The integrated culture force that produced acidic commentary of social conditions seems to be the similar reservoir for these filmmakers’ vigour that purports to a degree to draw upon emblems of a bohemian heritage.
Remember The Free Filmmakers? Those bohemian, post-POST and Drum protégés inspired by something beyond the Beatnik and Harlem Renaissance? These youths might seem like artsy skhothani’s staffriding the wave of transit cranial economic products; but don’t be fooled. 

They are well-read.

And iThuba Gallery is among the headquarters of this new wave of alternative spaces pioneering an art businesses that offer space for such births of Alt-Zef Kinders with needled mouth initiated in post-modernist verbatim.

The ideas spun around these young minds are perhaps a post-apartheid an avant-garde representationalism of a new rebellion against commercialized exhibitionism associated with mainstream art, and their rustic tongues speak of a wildly diverse array of concepts.

Concepts and art practices of film legends like Goddard and Lynch are interwoven with critiques of Pasolini's morbidity, while analyses of Man Ray’s and Burrough’s film art seems sacramental to this congregation of dissidents.

The ever so unpalatable works of Warhol, the surrealism of Stan Brackhage and Maya Deren are inspirations which seem to be the cannons of the alternative sentiments prevalent among this generation of artists.

Despondent yet undefeated, they are reclusively waging a war against common sense.

Their efforts as independent artists, thinkers and filmmakers represent that critical period of important output in our burgeoning florid and sensuous capture of today's lifestyle's plasticity and our era's "new psychology".

Glued to the sidewalk, bouncing a cigarette bud; I listen to Sibs Shongwe Lar-Mer explicate philosophies inherent in his films.

"I battle to be laughable. Most of my narrative films lack comical elements. No comedy, just morbid characters, dealing with unnerving realities."

He sums up his approach to infusing his emotional temperament into his film craft by admitting that "my films are quite dark, I have been told.

But they draw from real incidents, persons and emotions possible to any feeling entity."

This I believe eloquently puts a name to the unkempt face lurking behind sunglasses of self-deprecating suburbanite youths, carried by soles of dirty sneaker tsotsis that trod township streets directed by minds serenaded by violent art and inebriated literary genius.

"The only film of I wrote, directed, filmed and edited - that has tinges of humour and elements of comedy is Territorial Pissings.

In the film, there is a constant ambiguity between seriousness and joking. You are never certain whether the characters themselves see the seriousness of a situation.

Will they laugh soon? Or, the scene is quite laughable but suddenly BANG! We are serious as hell."

I wasn't there during the screening, but I gathered that a vast array of narrative expressions, styles of filmmaking that tread beyond confines of traditional cinema structures and purely antipathic processes of producing film art were at play.

It seems most of the films exhibited here are films filled with contradictions; emotional, physical and social.

These artists are making films without formal, structural, organic laws; theirs is a visceral and unbound expression of man’s inner convolutions.

The series of screenings at the iThuba Gallery kicked off with Thabang Moleya's showcase, which is said to have stirred both intellectual debate and emotions.

It is however regrettable that the screenings have now been rescheduled due to the curator's ill-health, and alas, I am looking forward to more potent surprises of future film artworks to be exhibited once the universe has conspired towards Sibs' speedy recovery.

Images: The Whitman Independent

Eidetic

Aphro Kazuhiko

Motho Fela

A COMMON MAN

The sun shines so bright

to bring the true essence of life to all mankind

light, warmth and love are all provided to us by the sun

but only a few of us can recognize

the beauty that is shown to us by the sunlight

some can’t even feel the warmth

that is provided to us by the sun, why?

is it because they can’t feel

the heat like they are dead heroes?

since their bodies are cold

coz their souls’ temperatures are way below

zero degrees

they cease to live

but continue to exist

cruising without a compass in this ship of life

their direction is guided

by what they can see

only through their naked eyes                                                      

minds are paralyzed,

they are intoxicated, high and hypnotized

by what their eyes make them see

they can’t feel anything, think or even blink

as their life ship sinks deep under the blood sea

drowning in their own blood with no hope

of a lifeboat or even self-pride to hold on to

but who am I to tell you what I see

through these three eyes of mine?

i’m just a common man

a common man

tryin to make some sense of this madness

i’m a common man guided

by two of my best friends

common sense and the one within myself

the immortal warrior

i’m not perfect

I’m just a common man who’s not even educated

maybe if I was, I’d get their attention

or maybe if I was filthy rich and famous

i bet I’d still get their attention

but I have no education

and neither do I have earthly riches

all I am enriched with is the inspiration

to give you this information

that’s provided to me

by the one within

i’m passing it on to you

hoping you will make use of it

in an attempt to avoid the truth

fools would try to mute my voice

i watch them fail as my words continue

striking you like lightning

striking a tree

i get you open

sending chills down your spine

foolish smiles turn into frowns

as suckers realize I can’t be shut down

coz i’m this common man protected

by the most high power

to the creator of nature

i’m one of the most beautiful flowers

in this already messed up garden

the planet called earth

to you I’ll always be a common man

a common tryin to make sense

out of this nonsense

a common man tryin’ to put together

puzzles of the picture of life

i hope my words will make some sense to you

If they don’t now

then they will some day

i hope when that day comes

it won’t be too late

you don’t have to know my name

but just who I am

and who I am is a common man

far from perfect

but quite close to righteousness.

Footprints Of The Monster’s Ghost

Celebrations are in process

marking the execution of the monster

The evil beast has died

so it’s been said

but its ghost is very much still alive

and its footprints are visible

turning families into enemies

Children suffer the consequences

Light refreshments are still being served

by those who were fed by the beast

They are still sucking milk

from the ghost’s breast

loyal employees who are ruled by greed

guided by these footprints of the monster’s ghost

These footprints can still be traced somewhere

out there in the polluted air

Footprints are also carelessly scattered

all over the emotional scars

of the forsaken sufferers

They are also seen

on the beaks of the hungering vultures

who are scavenging on the bodies of the weak

Until these footprints are erased

and can no longer be traced

celebrations of a successful executions

may continue taking place

Give me love ( a cry of a common man)

give me love don’t give me sex

i have seen too much of that

besides, I don’t wanna waste my sweat

give me knowledge and strength

i need to enhance my consciousness

give me love so that

i find peace within myself

give me education give me skills

so that I can increase my abilities

to compete for job opportunities

give me a job so that I can pay the bills

and feed my seed

give me love, so that I can find peace

and spread it in all the streets

don’t give me a filthy bag

filled with empty promises

get me a piece of land

so that I can build myself

a home where I can lay my head

give me work so that I can pay the rent

i need books to read

so give me libraries

don’t give me lies give me the truth please

i don’t need your massive destructive weapons

so don’t give me guns

build me schools and all the necessary tools

i need to school the youth

give me love

so that I can find peace

and spread it in all the streets

give me access to insight

so that I can promote and exercise

protect and realize my socio-economic rights

pleeze don’t privatize my birthright to a decent and healthy life

give me clinics so that i can take care of the sick and weak

don’t feel pity for me,  i don’t need your sympathy

give me love, don’t give me charity

show me some solidarity

show me love, show me some humanity

give me peace, justice and equity

so that I can change my poverty-dominated reality

give me love so that i can find peace

and spread it in all the streets

coz if you don’t

i’m gonna take it all by force

WHO ARE WE

                                  Who are we and what are we created for

                                        Who are we and what are we made from

                                          Are we made from the most fertile soil

               That’s supposed to nourish seeds of joy, love, and peace

                 Or are we made to become slaves of our selfish dreams

           Enslaved by the earthly pleasures, the temperature’s rising

      And the question I’m asking is can we overcome the pressure

               Relentlessly chasing what we still can’t see or recognize

                         The sun blazing, but there are still some among us

                                            who can’t identify their own shadows

                                                   The path we walk on is so narrow

                                                      only a few can make it through

    Those who still can see their own shadows and are able to read

        the writing that’s on the wall, but only blind men can read it

                                        Those whose eyes are blinded by visions

                                     that protect them from wicked temptations

             This world has in store for us, maybe weak is what we are

                                                              But WHO ARE WE?

                                                         From the olden days of dark caves,

                                                            to this golden age of cyber space        

                                                             We are still stumbling in a maze

                                          Battling to escape from the clutches of satan

                            Trapped in a mental cage and the key is thrown away

                                             The only way to escape is through the gate

                                                            That leads to a sophisticated cage

                                                             where new age slaves are trained

                                                                    to work for a minimum wage

                                                               hoping the situation will change

                                              Coming out of cages smiling, feeling brave

                                 And ready to face the crazy world… or so we hope

                                                                                        WHO ARE WE?

         

                                                      Are we them most vicious animals

                      Whose sole purpose is to continuously breed cannibals

                                                                      that’ll soon be eating us                                       

                                               Are we creatures that are most civilized

                                     If the answer is yes, then my question is why?

                                                     do we still live in the times of fear?

                        Children cry of hunger and  bullets replace their tears

                        Are we leaders of the world who’ll travel the universe

                                                                            In search of the truth

        Not even ten bullets of proof vests can protect us from the truth

                                                          ‘Coz its penetration hurts so bad

                                Are we the only ones who know what the truth is

                                                                             and where it’s buried                                                                      

                   If we are soldiers in a battlefield, let’s kill all our enemies

                                                   Hatred and vanity, jealousy and greed

                         Before we exhume the TRUTH and resurrect L.O.V.E

              But first we have to know who we are and what we’re here for   

                                                 WHO ARE WE and what we’re made of

                                                    Are we made from the most fertile soil

                          That’s supposed to nourish seeds of joy, love and peace

                           Or are we made to become slaves to our selfish dreams?

                                                   Maybe we are not who we think we are.

                                                                                      WHO ARE WE?

MY REALITY

           Excuse me, I didn’t mean to be

          rudely intruding with confusion

         it’s just that you see it is so amusing

the way you have a tendency of assuming

whenever you speak of solutions and revolutions

concluding that we all share the same reality

                                            Well the truth is

if we don’t, we’ll fail to change the situation

   and this exercise is really time consuming

                                             it is no delusion

 that these walls which seem to be closing in

    are covered in misery, creating my reality

                          which is never seen on TV

I am not talking ‘bout your reality

coz yours is always embracing TV screens

your reality’s always covering glossy magazines

your reality created by varsities

of CNN, SABC and DSTV’s pop videos

and by all of those who control the flow of info

          As IMF, World Bank and WTO control the cash flow

my reality is forcibly and continuously confronting poverty

                             my reality is never seen at cocktail parties

you see my reality never meets with sausages, wine and cheese

            coz my reality often sleeps where there’s nothing to eat

         The music that my reality dances to is created by screams

and grooves of gun shots, bullet wounds decorate walls of my reality

blood-dripping bullet wounds decorate walls of my reality

blood-dripping bullet wounds decorate walls of my reality

Angry faces of frustration I always greet

frozen tears I cry, Children with hungry faces I see

            no tears in their eyes, all I see is bloodstains

as alcoholism, prostitution and criminalism create pathways

for those who seek to escape from this reality cage

My reality hardly ever meets yours on TV

coz my reality can hardly afford to pay electricity

she lives in the dark, far away from economic activities

If you’ve ever seen my reality before, it probably means

you and me must be related, and your reality might be

my reality, together we can then start thinking

about changing it, and that’s MY REALITY

SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK

                                                       Eggs are hatching, and instantly

                                       Deadly snakes start creeping and crowding

                                                              Scaring defenseless children

                                                                         They cry out for help

                                                         But no one wants to hear them

                                                          Left alone out there in the cold

                                             There’s nothing for them to hold on to

                                        Except the last drop, left inn the bottle of hope

                                                                      Somewhere in the dark

                                                 A mother is overpowered by hunger

                                                               She offer her young daughter

                                                      To insatiable hungering scavengers

                                                Wanting to taste the power of the paper

                                                         

            Somewhere in the dark

                                                   A brother sucks blood of his elders

                                                 Hoping that will make him stronger                                             

                                    So that he can be able to nurture his children

                                                    Raising them to become cannibals

                                                            Living somewhere in the dark

                      

CIVILIZED BARBARIANS
Standing firm, on the surface of planet earth

                                like depressed cavemen

                  grieving for the loss of their hair

    but still enjoying every gasp of filthy air

                         bringing back lost memories

               of their cherished meaningless past

             Always dressed up in latest fashion labels

        but still unable to distinguish truth from fable

                     Fascinated by tools that destroy lives

     Drinking everything, from many wells of blood

         hoping it would kill their unquenchable thirst

                                               for superficial wealth

                        Sexin’ in the park in broad daylight

                                 Oh, I guess that’s another part

                                         of their civilized lifestyle

  Living without a complete comprehension of self

        Selfishness is their main source of inspiration

                                 Relying on their rubber minds

            to guide them on their next hunt for control

    In their minds human lives weigh less than paper

                     Always resorting senseless to violence

                         whenever they fight over territories

which seem suitable

for their mind destruction laboratories

                            Like three bulls in the same kraal

                  they lock their horns  to settle the score

                                       and the winner takes it all

                                   human flesh, blood and soul

                      the ultimate prize for true barbarians

          completely civilized, but only on the surface

                            underneath their enchanting grins

                                       a true barbaric spirit reigns

THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF DARKNESS

                              Twelve midnight, the moon is dark outside

                                      A woman cries of pain, a child is born

                                     Holding tight to every gasp of fresh air                                                                                            

                                                             Enjoying the gift of life

                                                                      in times of hunger

                he gains the ability to communicate with his mother

                     His cry is a hinting reminder for his next feeding  

                     As he grows older, and being exposed to darkness

                                        he learns the skill to enhance his sight

                                  preparing himself for a brighter tomorrow

                                                  In a moment of grief and sorrow

                                         he discovers a means to deal with pain

                                           Living in poverty, he gains the ability                                                                                                

                                  to devise creative means, to defeat adversity                                                          

        

                            In times of fear, he learns more about his strengths

                             and finds the opportunity to put his faith to the test

                                                          When faced with evil temptation,

                                                He gains knowledge of self self-control                                                                                           

                    Whenever he finds himself standing face to face with hate

                                          he discovers ways to fulfill his need for love

                                                                      and the ability to give love

                                                                   He finds enough inspiration

                                                       whenever he hears negative criticism

                                     

                              When he has to walk across a crocodile infested river

                               he learns to teach himself how to build a solid bridge

                                                                               When lost in the jungle

                                he gains the ability to tame the most vicious animals

                                                            and find his way home in with ease

 

IF LIFE HAS NO MEANING

If life has no meaning

Why do you keep  on breathing

If life has no meaning

Why do you still wake up in the morning

and watch the sun rising

If life has no meaning

Why do you spend most of your nights dreaming

about living your living your life as a king

If life has no meaning

Why do you spend time thinking

Wondering about the meaning of life

Spending all your energy and time

Tryin' to run away from the reality of life

the reality being somewhere in your heart

many answers lie

Answers to what is the meaning of life

If life has no meaning

Why do you still fight to protect your human rights

If life is just a simple game

Why don't you spend a day

to make your own rules and play the game

If life has no meaning

Why do you feel the need to celebrate

When things seem to be going your way

If the meaning of life is learning

why don't you stop complaining

and start reading your lessons

If life has no meaning

why do you still feel the need to love and be loved

If there's no meaning of life

why do you feel the pain when the ones you love cry

why do you cry when the ones you love die

If there's no meaning of life

why don't you go on and die

I know you cannot want to

coz somewhere deep your soul, the truth is buried alive

the truth being ,there  is meaning to your life

(only you can define it through what you do with it)

HOW LUCKY WE ARE

                                     How lucky we are to still be here

                                     After all these years of tears

                                     In this messed up planet called earth

                                     How lucky we are to have overcome

                                     So many difficult situations,

                                     obstacles and hurdles that seemed

                                     impossible to jump at first sight

                        Damn!  We are so lucky to be blessed

                                     with an abundance of wealth and success

                                     which is just a breath away

                        How lucky we are to have the consciousness of God’s invisible hand

                                      that’s guiding us every step of the way

                                      We are very lucky to be these great beings gifted

                                      with the ability and opportunity

                                      to align ourselves with the most divine spirit

                                      How lucky we are to be the caretakers of the universe

 who are in control o f every physical thing under the sun

                                      How lucky we are to be blessed with the skill

                                      that enables us to create our own reality and live in it

We are so lucky that the unluckiest experience

We may ever have is to waste our lives without realising

                                      How lucky we are