FAREWELL TO THE MOTHER OF AZANIA, MAMA ZONDENI VERONICA SOBUKWE, INTOMBI KASTINI MATHE WASE HLOBANE KWAZULU ! !

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Early in the morning of 15 August 2018, the mother of Azania, intombi kastini wase Hlobane Kwazulu, after chatting with her daughter Miliswa [the beautiful Watusi women as fondly referred to by her father Mangaliso Sobukwe), fare-welled us on her

MOTHER AZANIA

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[In memoriam: Veronica Zodwa Sobukwe] our beautiful mother who knows the art of giving the outspoken meaning in silence after the first ever yell of the newly born when she had made the warm assurance of her welcoming touch on

MGABABA: A MUSICAL TALENT TAKEN TOO SOON!!

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On 22 June 1992, the body of a 30-year-old man was discovered inside a car outside a New York apartment in Rochester. His name was Vernon Molefe, a South African musician known among friends and acquaintances in the exile community

Did our brothers have a choice? (Marikana)

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Did our brothers have a choice between a life deep in the depth of despair and a meagre R12500.00 for endless toils? Did our brothers have a choice between a raging Buffalo charging for platinum and the anguish of poverty stricken

Zimbabwe Presidential Elections Court Challenge: Will Chamisa Fly or Fall ??

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I would like to submit my critic of the Constitutional petition filed by the MDC Alliance. Everything starts and falls on the founding affidavit. Before going into the substance of his application, let’s get the preliminary issues out of the

TRIBUTE TO MICHAEL TSHEHLA PHAHLANE: A FORGOTTEN TRAILBLAZER

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The man who gave Soweto its name back in 1963, slipped away quietly two weeks ago without a single mention in local media despite the fact that he was the real doyen of black South African journalism and one of

WE DO

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[Remember Sobukwe: 1924 – 1978] under the objective conditions we all have big families to take care of loved ones to shower with undying love adorable children to raise friends to spend time with stupid facebook posts to send exploiting

UNDER THE BLUEGUM TREE

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[With Mahlubandile Jr Ntabeni] as the fiery sun bakes mother earth and the asphalt streets rise up in anger as patched throats risk running more drier and the rumbling in our bellies cries out as the scornful glares pounce upon

THE CHILD DID NOT RETURN

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the child did not return from school down the road the child was last seen at ten in the morning through a hole in the rotten corrugated iron another school child saw the child slip into the pit latrine desperately

THIS THING OF OURS

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[In Memory of Bra Vusi Make] this thing of ours is never talked about though its dear life is seeded in the up and down of our own lives at times it gives a sinking feeling of despair and defeat