Pradeep, a police officer based in Benoni, South Africa, grew weary of his monotonous routine. In search of thrill, he devised a bold scheme to rob a bank.
He booked an early flight from Johannesburg to Durban, rented a car upon landing, and made his way to a nearby bank. Before leaving his vehicle, he put on a wig and a fake beard. Once inside the bank, he pointed his gun at the teller, insisting she fill his bag with cash. After successfully obtaining the money, he quickly left and caught the next flight back to Johannesburg.
The robbery went off seamlessly, leaving Pradeep buzzing with excitement. This thrill ignited a series of plans for more bank robberies, one after another, until he was frequently flying to Durban on his days off to execute yet another daring theft. He even started hitting up local banks in Johannesburg during his lunch breaks. With his ingenious disguises, he could pull off the crime and then seamlessly return to the area, leaving witnesses completely unaware that he was the very person they were describing.
Pradeep had honed his skills in bank robbery to perfection; he was intimately familiar with the intricacies of bank security systems, allowing him to dodge capture time after time. Over the course of four thrilling years, he successfully executed heists at around 30 different banks, with each adventure delivering an adrenaline-fuelled thrill.
One fateful evening, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. At a vibrant party, he indulged a bit too much in the drinks and struck up a conversation with his buddy Larry. Fuelled by a surge of confidence, he started bragging to Larry about his latest bank heists, insisting he was a master in the art of robbery.
Larry worked for SAMBO, a branch of the South African Police Service focused on combating organised crime, economic offences, and corruption. Bound by his oath and the responsibilities of his role, he realised he could not stay silent about the secret and chose to bring it to the attention of his superiors.
Upon Pradeep's return from Durban, having just pulled off another bank heist, the police were poised and ready at the baggage claim. He was taken into custody and sentenced to 18 years in prison. However, Pradeep wasn't about to give up; he began devising his escape plan even as the judge delivered his verdict.
While he was incarcerated, he crossed paths with a man named Mpande, and shortly thereafter, he met another fellow inmate named Fanie. Both were serving sentences for robbery, and before long, the trio developed a solid friendship that would see them through their time behind bars.
After nearly three years of incarceration, the trio concocted a bold escape strategy. They initiated their plan by having Pradeep and Mpande feign injuries, successfully persuading the prison guards to escort them to an external physiotherapist for care. Upon arrival, they seized the moment, overpowering the guards and taking their firearms. Armed with the guards' weapons, they commandeered the physiotherapist's vehicle and made a thrilling escape. Following their flight, they opted to lay low for some time.
Several months went by, and they launched a daring assault on the prison where Fanie was held captive, guns blazing, and managed to break him out. Now that the trio was back together and on the run, they had to find a place to lay low.
Pradeep was filled with restlessness, craving the thrill of robbing banks once more. He, along with his two accomplices, set off on a daring escapade, starting with one bank and swiftly moving to the next, then a third. Their spree continued as they hit bank after bank, all while sporting ridiculous disguises: giant sunglasses, bushy moustaches, and fake beards. They may have looked comical, but their synergy was impressive, allowing them to complete a heist in under five minutes. On some occasions, they even managed to rob several banks in a single day without being apprehended.
As their exploits gained notoriety, news of the bank robbers spread like wildfire through the community. Surprisingly, many locals began to rally behind them, captivated by how they outsmarted the police. Pradeep, Mpande, and Fanie found themselves in the spotlight as unlikely heroes, affectionately dubbed "The Invisibles" by their growing legion of fans. The frenzy surrounding them was palpable, and their faces were splashed across every news platform, igniting discussions far and wide. They untimately became South Africa's most wanted.
Over a span of several months, the crime spree showed no signs of slowing down. The gang found shelter in various safe houses, seized every chance to rob banks, amassed a significant amount of cash, and filled their leisure time with a parade of escorts.
Pradeep had a disturbing tendency to target unsuspecting young women, posing as a professional photographer. He lured them to his hotel room with the allure of a photoshoot, only to take advantage of them in a shocking way. One brave victim mustered the strength to report his heinous behaviour to the authorities.
With the threat of being captured hanging over them, the three quickly formulated an ingenious escape strategy to leave the country. They decided to obtain a yacht, aiming to make their getaway by sea. They believed this maritime route offered a greater sense of safety.
Using a fraudulent passport, Pradeep headed to Australia to finalise the discussions surrounding the yacht sale. Meanwhile, back in South Africa, law enforcement was closing in on one of the gang's secret locations. It appeared that some of the gang's escorts had tipped off the authorities. At approximately 4:00 am, the police surrounded the location, with Mpande being the sole occupant of the hideout. Police ordered the gang to come out with their hands raised. In a surreal moment, Mpande, still dripping from his shower and entirely naked, reached for his weapon and found himself in a frantic butt-naked shootout with law enforcement. The police burst into the house, and gunfire erupted around him as he dashed from one room to another, firing back at his pursuers. When they finally cornered him, he made a tragic choice, turning the gun on himself and ending it all.
In the meantime, Fanie received a tip-off that the police were closing in on them. He quickly made his escape, using a counterfeit passport to catch a flight to Greece. By the time the police conducted their raid on the gang's safe houses, he had already vanished. However, in one of those locations, they discovered photographs of a woman whom Pradeep had assaulted several months earlier. This evidence not only corroborated her account of being exploited by him but also linked the safe house directly to Pradeep.
The safe house provided crucial information that directed the police to the yacht they had purchased. From there, they traced a crew member hired to navigate it, who revealed that Pradeep was meant to transport the yacht to Australia. This development led law enforcement to conclude that Pradeep might be in Australia. Local newspapers caught wind of the story and began featuring Pradeep's photo, causing residents in Melbourne to be on the lookout for him.
One fateful morning, everything began to unravel for Pradeep. He was browsing a used car dealership, eager to find a new car, worried that his old one might give him away. The salesman, having seen Pradeep's face in the local newspaper, kept quiet at first but later decided to alert the authorities.
That night, the police made their way to Pradeep's apartment, forcefully entering the premises. But to their dismay, Pradeep was nowhere to be found. But just when it seemed like they were at a dead end, one of the officers spotted him whizzing by on a bicycle. There was no doubt about it; he recognised him instantly. The police officer dashed over to confront him. Realising what was happening, Pradeep jumped off his bike and made a run for it.
The police officer pursued him relentlessly until he finally caught up. Pradeep, who had been feigning surrender, suddenly lunged for the officer's shotgun. In a split second, the officer reacted by drawing his secondary weapon and fired four shots into Pradeep's chest, resulting in his immediate death.
Fanie, the sole remaining member of the trio, ended up in Brazil, where he tried to pull off another heist. Unfortunately, his plan failed spectacularly, resulting in his arrest and a life sentence without the possibility of parole.
"Now that I knew fear, I also knew it was not permanent. As powerful as it was, its grip on me would loosen. It would pass."
No end of story has been told, several legends have been born; tiny runnels have wiped out into the Nile; massive water courses had gorged the Indian and the Atlantic.
Africa is the native land of all mankind species, our cherished fatherland is the continent of Africa; you are always welcome to Africa.
Jewels are found in the stain atop, pure beauty is found in our hearts; giving hope with full-blown vision.
For many people of the world, Africa is time and again seen through a spare monocle, purified curtain abodes of indigence, deprivation, illness, dearth, and blues.
Yes, we have our threat, it's true, but we are a people of physiques, resilience and faith; African elevation comes alive as a cloud nine.
Africa is a continent of countries, clans, of peoples; each with its olden days, its voice, its rainbows; its bounty of rituals, the diversity of its arts; and the charm of its civilization.
Africa is a nook of titanic conceivable of chow that is appetizing, fervent and sweet; Africa is not a spot of shadows, but a distance of light of a nightmare and opportunity; Africa is not a hole of pity, but a place of influence and self-respect.
We are the offshoot of a proud continent, Africa is where the sun steps up and bents with a scorching effulgence; making it a place where every day is a sunny season.
An assortment of Chinua Achebe's short fiction, composed north of twenty years and drawn from scholarly diaries and magazines.
Experience a captivating narrative of love and jealousy in the enchanting coastal village of Hermanus, where the Whale Caller watches over the majestic creatures with reverence.
Immerse yourself in a unique anthology of fantasy and science fiction stories from Africa and the African Diaspora, handpicked by Sheree Renee Thomas, Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki, and Zelda Knight.
How to Guide Your Team, Yourself, and Your Organization to Unprecedented Outcomes
"This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.
This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.
Scholars believe, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface."
Awesome adventures of African children with colorful drawings
Ulli finds a friend at the Saturday market, where he sells oranges.
Amina learns from her aunt how to make tie-dyed material.
Ojo the dream monster
Dondo saves his village from a terrible sandstorm.
Nandi meets her grandma in a dream.
Chinere receives seven magic stones on her wedding day.
Ali helps build a new schoolhouse in the middle of the jungle.
Saku stumbles on a magic medicine man who can read his thoughts.
Punji falls from his canoe into the lagoon and almost drowns.
Miriam dances for Grandma at the big family party.
This book delves into how environmentalist and developmentalist ideas affect the indigenous population and their socio-economic status in the DRC. It specifically looks at the Batwa pygmies, who were displaced from Kahuzi-Biega National Park in the Eastern DRC and now reside in the mountainous region. The book also examines how they currently obtain natural resources like land, forests, and water and maps out the conflicts that arise.
Amagama Enkululeko! Words for Freedom: Brings together short fiction, poetry, narrative journalism, and extracts from novels and memoirs to showcase local literature as a means to understand South Africa's history. Featuring a foreword by Zakes Mda and a mix of well-known and overlooked struggle writers, this anthology of poetry and prose provides a glimpse into how everyday life was influenced by historical circumstances.
Relationships can be tricky, and breakups can be worse. While most of us learn from hindsight, it often comes at the cost of making some mistakes. In this book, Toni Tone shares brilliant advice and enlightening wisdom to help you avoid some of these mistakes and improve the way you navigate love life, dating, and heartbreaks.
Dive into this collection of poetry and prose inspired by modern dating and broken relationships, perfect for fans of Rupi Kaur and Orion Carloto.
"You'll Come Back to Yourself" examines issues of depression, infidelity, lost love, body image, and ultimately the ability of women to make their own decisions.
"If sharks were men," Mr. K. was asked by his landlady's little girl, "would they be nicer to the little fishes?"
"Certainly," he said. "If sharks were men, they would build enormous boxes in the ocean for the little fish, with all kinds of food inside, both vegetable and animal. They would take care that the boxes always had fresh water, and in general they would make all kinds of sanitary arrangements. If, for example, a little fish were to injure a fin, it would immediately be bandaged so that it would not die and be lost to the sharks before its time. So that the little fish would not become melancholy, there would be big water festivals from time to time because cheerful fish taste better than melancholy ones.
"There would, of course, also be schools in the big boxes. In these schools, the little fish would learn how to swim into the sharks' jaws. They would need to know geography, for example, so that they could find the big sharks, who lie idly around somewhere. The principal subject would, of course, be the moral education of the little fish. They would be taught that it would be the best and most beautiful thing in the world if a little fish sacrificed itself cheerfully and that they all had to believe the sharks, especially when the latter said they were providing for a beautiful future. The little fish would be taught that this future is assured only if they learnt obedience. The little fish had to beware of all base, materialist, egotistical, and Marxist inclinations, and if one of their number betrayed such inclinations, they had to report it to the sharks immediately.
"If sharks were men, they would, of course, also wage wars against one another in order to conquer other fish boxes and other little fish. The wars would be waged by their own little fish. They would teach their little fish that there was an enormous difference between themselves and the little fish belonging to the other sharks. Little fish, they would announce, are well known to be mute, but they are silent in quite different languages and hence find it impossible to understand one another. Each little fish that, in a war, killed a couple of other little fish, enemy ones, silent in their own language, would have a little order made of seaweed pinned to it and be awarded the title of hero.
"If sharks were men, there would, of course, also be art. There would be beautiful pictures in which the sharks' teeth would be portrayed in magnificent colours and their jaws as pure pleasure gardens, in which one could romp about splendidly. The theatres at the bottom of the sea would show heroic little fish swimming enthusiastically into the jaws of sharks, and the music would be so beautiful that to the accompaniment of its sounds, the orchestra leading the way, the little fish would stream dreamily into the sharks' jaws, lulled by the most agreeable thoughts.
"There would also be a religion if sharks were men. It would preach that little fish only really begin to live properly in the sharks' stomachs.
"Furthermore, if sharks were men, there would be an end to all little fish being equal, as is the case now. Some would be given important offices and be placed above the others. Those who were a little bigger would even be allowed to eat up the smaller ones. That would be altogether agreeable for the sharks, since they themselves would more often get bigger bites to eat. And the bigger little fish, occupying their posts, would ensure order among the little fish, become teachers, officers, engineers in box construction, etc.
"In short, if sharks were men, they would for the first time bring culture to the ocean."
What is Africa to me:
Copper sun or scarlet sea,
Jungle star or jungle track,
Strong bronzed men, or regal black
Women from whose loins I sprang
When the birds of Eden sang?
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?
So I lie, who all day long
Want no sound except the song
Sung by wild barbaric birds
Goading massive jungle herds,
Juggernauts of flesh that pass
Trampling tall defiant grass
Where young forest lovers lie,
Plighting troth beneath the sky.
So I lie, who always hear,
Though I cram against my ear
Both my thumbs, and keep them there,
Great drums throbbing through the air.
So I lie, whose fount of pride,
Dear distress, and joy allied,
Is my somber flesh and skin,
With the dark blood dammed within
Like great pulsing tides of wine
That, I fear, must burst the fine
Channels of the chafing net
Where they surge and foam and fret.
Africa?A book one thumbs
Listlessly, till slumber comes.
Unremembered are her bats
Circling through the night, her cats
Crouching in the river reeds,
Stalking gentle flesh that feeds
By the river brink; no more
Does the bugle-throated roar
Cry that monarch claws have leapt
From the scabbards where they slept.
Silver snakes that once a year
Doff the lovely coats you wear,
Seek no covert in your fear
Lest a mortal eye should see;
What's your nakedness to me?
Here no leprous flowers rear
Fierce corollas in the air;
Here no bodies sleek and wet,
Dripping mingled rain and sweat,
Tread the savage measures of
Jungle boys and girls in love.
What is last year's snow to me,
Last year's anything? The tree
Budding yearly must forget
How its past arose or set
Bough and blossom, flower, fruit,
Even what shy bird with mute
Wonder at her travail there,
Meekly labored in its hair.
One three centuries removed
From the scenes his fathers loved,
Spicy grove, cinnamon tree,
What is Africa to me?
So I lie, who find no peace
Night or day, no slight release
From the unremittent beat
Made by cruel padded feet
Walking through my body's street.
Up and down they go, and back,
Treading out a jungle track.
So I lie, who never quite
Safely sleep from rain at night--
I can never rest at all
When the rain begins to fall;
Like a soul gone mad with pain
I must match its weird refrain;
Ever must I twist and squirm,
Writhing like a baited worm,
While its primal measures drip
Through my body, crying, "Strip!
Doff this new exuberance.
Come and dance the Lover's Dance!"
In an old remembered way
Rain works on me night and day.
Quaint, outlandish heathen gods
Black men fashion out of rods,
Clay, and brittle bits of stone,
In a likeness like their own,
My conversion came high-priced;
I belong to Jesus Christ,
Preacher of humility;
Heathen gods are naught to me.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
So I make an idle boast;
Jesus of the twice-turned cheek,
Lamb of God, although I speak
With my mouth thus, in my heart
Do I play a double part.
Ever at Thy glowing altar
Must my heart grow sick and falter,
Wishing He I served were black,
Thinking then it would not lack
Precedent of pain to guide it,
Let who would or might deride it;
Surely then this flesh would know
Yours had borne a kindred woe.
Lord, I fashion dark gods, too,
Daring even to give You
Dark despairing features where,
Crowned with dark rebellious hair,
Patience wavers just so much as
Mortal grief compels, while touches
Quick and hot, of anger, rise
To smitten cheek and weary eyes.
Lord, forgive me if my need
Sometimes shapes a human creed.
All day long and all night through,
One thing only must I do:
Quench my pride and cool my blood,
Lest I perish in the flood.
Lest a hidden ember set
Timber that I thought was wet
Burning like the dryest flax,
Melting like the merest wax,
Lest the grave restore its dead.
Not yet has my heart or head
In the least way realized
They and I are civilized.
Millions queued in lines before Arbiter Of Disputes.
Hopes were high,
Duty and resolve holding firm.
Hearts dance with spirit of Emancipation,
Each with ammo stronger than bullet,
Ready to dislodge a fiendish cabal out of Power.
All conscious of the long night of tribulation.
Singly, the weapons were discharged
Into The Receptacle Of Liberty;
Upon which they received baptisms of Freedom.
Inside the altar tugs of war ensued:
Invisible fibres bound and aligned aspirations.
Popular Will prevailed.
Bearing the scars of Apartheid,
Indigenous people celebrate the birth of Democracy.
Ballot Box had come at a great expense;
At all costs its sacredness shall be preserved.
Those were the surviving heroes and heroines of Mzansi.
Bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
'n spieel het gebreek
tussen my en hom
Soek ek na die grootpad
om daarlangs te draf
oral draai die paadjies
van sy woorde af
Dennebos herinnering
dennebos vergeet
het ek ook verdwaal
trap ek in my leed
Papegaai-bont eggo
kierang kierang my
totdat ek bedroe
weer die koggel kry
Eggo is geen antwoord
antwoord hy alom
bitterbessie dagbreek
bitterbessie son
Dance, dance!
With the muse of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the rhythm of Africa;
Moving your body and,
Moving your steps;
To the sounds and cultures of the various tribes in Africa.
Dance, dance!
To the rhythm of Africa;
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
To a continent of nature's muse,
To a continent of multi-languages,
To a continent full of colours!
Fron North, South, East and West;
Come to Africa and see things for yourselves.
Rhythm of Africa,
Rhythm of various customs and cultures,
Rhythm of the various countries in Africa,
Rhythm of the animals,
With the beauty of nature as seen around.
Dance, dance!
Dance with the steps and shake your body;
To the rhythm of Africa touching your heart and soul.
Tap, tap!
With the movements of the muse of Africa;
Rhythm of Africa!
With the muse of various races in Africa;
Expressing their cultures and customs to the muse of the rhythm of Africa.
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will never let you out of my mind
I hear your voices people of Africa
I hear your cries people of Africa
I see pain in your eyes people of Africa
It is hard to describe what you people of Africa are going through
Poverty strikes you all people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
Because I will keep you in my prayers people of Africa
Power to the people of Africa
People of Africa lift your spirit higher
Lord is the light and truth people of Africa
The Lord sends you a message from his heart to you people of Africa
He said because I love you
I will answer your prayers
I hear your prayers
Don't cry for me Africa
Because you have a friend that is the Lord
People of Africa continue doing the Lord's work
Make a wish people of Africa
The people of Africa are looking at the Lord face to face
Lord here is no paradise
We dream a little dream said the people of Africa to the Lord
The People of Africa Pray that the Lord will give each other strength every day
Don't cry for me Africa
Save the people of Africa
Strengthened the people of Africa each day
Because I'll be there in your dreams people of Africa
The people of Africa tells The Lord how much they love him
Don't cry for me Africa
Lord comes when you are ready people of Africa
Feelings you have for your Lord People of Africa
And I know you will never let it die
Nothing but flowers the people of Africa will plant in the sea shore for the Lord
Don't cry for me Africa
The people of Africa needs hope to heal there land
The Lord rose up on you people of Africa
Don't cry for me Africa
My heart will go on
Once I close this door of the ship I will sail across the Atlantic Sea
Down!
But I believe in the truth;
Faith and hope,
Born and raised in Africa.
Growing up in Ghana,
To face the world today with my works;
Along the line to meet your love!
Miles away from my home.
Teachings,
Growing up,
To fall and to rise up again!
To follow after the truth,
Keeping the laws,
Righteous Laws;
To choose those things which are right and,
To seek for peace.
Born in Africa,
Born and raised in Africa;
Kiss, hiss, miss!
Literature from Africa;
Warm and Friendly,
To do my best for others.
Due, dew!
With the clue;
To agree to the truth,
Free like a bee! !
Seen around a tree.
Muse of love and life,
Side by side;
To pay my dues to Mama Africa.
Growing up,
Life in the Ghetto;
Inside Africa!
Literature from Africa.
Through the narrow path,
Through Creativity,
Hustle and bustle,
Table, stable, cable, able!
Sometimes unstable;
Muse from Africa,
And to respect Mama Africa.
Cultures and Traditions,
Born and raised in Africa;
Growing up in Ghana,
With the Challenges and the Changes around.
Literature of Africa!
Rivers of Africa,
Mountains of Africa,
Animals of Africa,
North, South, East and West!
With the muse of Mama Africa.
Plants and rituals,
Stages and sages,
Pages of life!
With the muse of Africa.
Born and raised in Africa,
My mind!
My love,
My identity,
My muse;
Closely related to my tribe;
The vibe!
With my works to the world.
A new day,
Sunshine love!
A new day in Africa;
Echoes of a new day with the muse of my mind,
Born and raised in Africa.
Peace and joy to all mankind without racism!
Realism;
With the truth,
With Natural Laws,
With the romance of nature.
Issue,
Tissue,
Reign! !
Oh Life! Give me what i want;
Able to touch the hearts of the people with the truth,
With righteous morals.
Inspired by the truth,
Living and learning always;
Under the umbrella of righteous morals,
Gain, again!
With righteous laws.
Chain and pain along the line,
Growing up in Africa;
Pray, ray, pay!
To heal the world with the truth.
Africa, Our Africa
Africa of Green and Black, of colors in between
Africa of people, of love and light, from within
Africa of ethnics and languages, of long told history
Africa of cultures and traditions, a rich tapestry.
Africa of strife and victory through colonial time
Africa of struggle through imperial crime
Africa of war, both tribal and civil
Africa of peace, condemning evil
Africa of hope, freedom and liberation
Africa of growth, of change and innovation
Africa of then: men, women - slaves to capture
Africa of now: men, women - reclaiming our valor!
Don't let your heart stay broken
Do not stay fixated on what could have been
Focus on all that was deep
Be thankful you smiled
Be thankful you cried
And be thankful you loved and were loved
Because no magician is strong enough to conjure the magic you've created
So don't let your heart stay broke
Don't focus on the darkness
Or things that did not last
Don't look back at your pas
When your future is that bright..
With promise of job,
he lured her into a cane field.
His gentleness a veil of sanity.
Lurking in his mind,
a perversion of sex instinct:
'Bind her! Torture her! Kill her! '
Deep within comfort zone
suddenly brandishing his bludgeon,
countenance wearing mercilessness -
sight of which imported terror into her spine.
Desperate plea for mercy fueling his excitement.
Menacingly, her clothes he demanded.
Hissing in agony like pine tree,
gnashing her teeth before the incubus, she stripped.
Her nudity assaulting his senses,
eyes flaming with lust,
he took stock of the bared flesh:
'Beautiful! Submissive! Horrified! '
Bound and gagged,
fantasy translating into reality,
all hell broke loose...
Urge gratified,
with her undergarment around her neck,
he sealed her fate.
Sixteenth victim of the unhinged mind:
Single mother of two horrendously maimed.
Not quite long,
no sooner had he got home
than long arm of the law tapped his shoulders:
DNA found on victims had matched his.
Karma forced to be lenient,
he lives albeit in confinement.
No Death Penalty In Mzansi.
One of the last (if not the last) of Africa's
tallest trees has fallen
Yes, Kofi Anan breathes no more
Death has stolen one of the last true sons of the soil
Death has stolen one of the last of Africa's favorite sons
Africa is weeping!
Africa is mourning!
Africa is weeping!
Africa is mourning!
One who was an embodiment of integrity is no more
Africa is mourning!
One who was Africa's pride and joy breathes no more
Africa is inconsolable!
One who was a compass of morality is late
Africa is weeping!
Oh Africa! Was Kofi your last born?
Is any of your favorite sons still alive?
Corruption is rampant
Integrity is not in any of our leaders vocabulary
Moral decay stinks up to the heavens
God and His angels must be closing their noses.
You join your fellow brothers
You join other favorite sons of Africa
You join Jomo Kenyatta
You join Patrice Lumumba
You join Julius Nyerere
You join Steve Biko
You join Nelson Mandela
One of Africa's tallest trees has fallen
Kofi Anan breathes no more.
A year from now you may wish you had started today.
"One of the sayings in our country is Ubuntu - the essence of being human. Ubuntu speaks particularly about the fact that you can't exist as a human being in isolation. It speaks about our interconnectedness. You can't be human all by yourself, and when you have this quality - Ubuntu - you are known for your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole world. When you do well, it spreads out; it is for the whole of humanity."
What To Read Next?
Tears of Disinheritance: Revisiting the Maasai Historical and Contemporary Land Injustices in Kenya
Tears of Disinheritance offers a comprehensive analysis of the land-related issues faced by the Maasai people. Dr. Koissaba explores the history of the Maasai community, highlighting their cultural heritage, spiritual practices, and movements across the Rift Valley in Kenya and Tanzania.
Die Lewe is 'n Asem Lank
"'n Versameling van 100 gedigte oor verlies en vertroosting deur van Afrikaans se bekendste digters. Dis verse die dood, rou, afskeid, verganklikheid en menswees. Die lewe is 'n asem lank is die ideale geskenk aan iemand wat 'n geliefde vir altyd moes groet ? veral wanneer 'n mens nie die woorde kan vind om te troos nie."
The Sex Lives of African Women
Amplifying phenomenal women from across the African continent and its global diaspora as they speak to empowering, experimental, and inspirational experiences of sex, sexuality, and relationships.
The Great Pretenders: Race and Class Under ANC Rule
Within a larger scope, the author explores South Africa's history starting from the mid-17th century, examining themes such as slavery, colonial rule, the mineral revolution, industrial capitalism, and apartheid.
Do the Work: Overcome Resistance and Get Out of Your Own Way
"There is an enemy. There is an intelligent, active, malign force working against us. Step one is to recognise this. This recognition alone is enormously powerful. It saved my life, and it will save yours." -- Steven Pressfield