I was privileged to be present at Zukiswa Wanner’s interview, yesterday in Johannesburg, with Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka. I hope you enjoy these photographs from the occasion.
I was privileged to be present at Zukiswa Wanner’s interview, yesterday in Johannesburg, with Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka. I hope you enjoy these photographs from the occasion.
I took these photographs of the late Fatima Meer at last year’s Words on Water festival in Durban, at the Durban University of Technology. She’s pictured here with Ramachandra Guha and Shobhaa De of India.
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My latest column in The Daily Maverick:
No amount of trying will turn a “no” into a “yes”, not when you’re selling something I don’t want or already have. And buying from you in desperation isn’t a licence to continue stalking me. I’m looking at you, Cell C and Virgin Mobile.
It’s plain abusive behaviour to call the same customer again and again, that’s what it is. I accept that companies should try their luck and sell their products using all the means at their disposal, and mobile phones give them access to a huge market.
But that does not amount to a license to harass.
E-mail marketing already comes standard with an opt-out button, so why is this opt-out facility not made compulsory for call centres as well? Surely each time they call you, they have to tick your response against your name. In this way they would know when to give up, before they overstep the bounds of decency and start engaging in what amounts to harassment. Otherwise what use is their database if they can’t even track your interest (or lack of it) in their product?
But no, these mercenary call centre agents strike when you least expect it. They call first thing in the morning and, nowadays, even at night. Once you’ve picked up the call, they won’t let you interrupt till they’ve gone through their well-rehearsed script.
You would imagine that saying yes would buy you some peace, but that just prompts them to call again – with a new offer. A friend of mine once received a barrage of calls from the Cell C call centre sales team. She was phoned on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of the same week, at exactly 19h30 each time. Tired and worn out from the relentless sales calls, she eventually crumbled and said yes on Friday. She received her new phone on the Monday. But the very next day she received a fresh call from the Cell C call centre offering her yet another special. She told the agent that she had just taken out a contract and had only done so in the hope that they would stop harassing her. Without missing a beat, the agent asked her if she would like an upgrade! For some strange reason it seems that call centre agents have been instructed to pester their prospects for as long as they are in possession of a working cellphone number.
Even as I sat down to write this piece about their unacceptable behaviour, my mobile rang and lo and behold, it was the umpteenth call from Virgin Mobile. And once again I had to go through the same ritual of telling the agent that I am not interested in any special offers from Virgin Mobile. I have lost count of the number of times that I have had to tell these agents that I do not need another phone. I mean, it should really be up to me how many mobile phones I have. The fact that Virgin is running a “special” is no reason for them to harass me, again. Especially when a simple flip through their database would tell them that I have already said no thanks on more than 30 occasions.
My latest column in The Daily Maverick
Someone finally had to say it. Europe is deeply resentful that the Fifa World Cup is coming to Africa.
The Europeans have a sickening sense of entitlement to the soccer tournament, and ever since Fifa announced South Africa as the 2010 host, they have tried every underhanded method to discredit the country. I’m glad that now Fifa president Sepp Blatter has spoken up – he’s probably had enough of the whining from spoilt Europeans about ‘security’ in South Africa during the World Cup.
As well as responding to security concerns, Fifa has already commented on other negative perceptions of South Africa. Last month Fifa general secretary Jerome Valke called for “fair treatment for South Africa”, and told (implicitly European) fans: “Don’t kill the World Cup before it has even happened.” He acknowledged that there were some problems, and that it was “very difficult to find a seat from Europe to South Africa for the World Cup”, but said he found it sad to wake up every morning and read articles saying: “Fifa and (Sepp) Blatter made the wrong decision to host the World Cup in South Africa.”
Now Blatter has added his opinion, and he knows what he is talking about when he says: “There is still this feeling in the so-called ‘old world’ that why the hell should South Africa organise a World Cup. Why the hell?” Blatter has decided that it’s time to call Europe’s bluff and state publicly their deeply-held opposition to Africa’s hosting of the Fifa World Cup. The European lobby tried to gang up against Blatter during 2006 his bid for re-election to the Fifa presidency, attempting, unsuccessfully, to oust him from his position because of his support for Africa’s right to host the World Cup.
Blatter’s angry words stem from the comments made by German Football League boss Reinhard Rauball who “demanded” South Africa must take action following the attack in Togo. Rauball’s language is telling. He “demanded”, and one wonders if he has forgotten that just prior to Germany hosting the Fifa World Cup in 2006 there were acts of terrorism in neighbouring Spain that left nearly 200 people dead. And yet no one “demanded” Germany to do something about what was clearly a domestic Spanish security problem. The European press did not go into a frenzy about how unsafe the 2006 World Cup in Germany would be as a result of the Madrid attacks. Yet the same hacks somehow make the connection between the attack on the Togo team in distant Angola with security in South Africa.
Over time it has become clear that for the highly organised Europe lobby, security is a convenient red herring, their real goal is to sow long and lasting doubt about the ability and crucially, the wisdom of bringing the Fifa World Cup to Africa. They understand that if they can create and sustain a feeling of unease and insecurity about Africa’s ability to host a safe World Cup, then next time an African country bids to host this tournament, the odds will be stacked heavily against them receiving Fifa’s approval.
Who can forget the fury of the Europeans when Fifa announced that the World Cup would be held on a rotating basis by the various continental federations during the bidding for the 2006 Fifa World Cup? Once they had digested the import of the rotation system, the Europeans were outraged, and their well-oiled PR machinery took Fifa head on.
Then UEFA boss, Leonard Johansson, led the chorus of protests at this Fifa decision. “Do you mean that Europe has to wait for 16 years before it hosts a World Cup?” one of them famously asked. Blatter himself was the main sponsor of the rotation system, as he believed that it was no longer equitable for Europe to host every other Fifa World Cup, as has been the practice till the 2006 Fifa World Cup held in Germany. Blatter went around the world, passionately arguing in front of the various confederations that it was time soccer adapted. He had naively assumed that the Europeans believed in the spirit of fair play that is part of the Fifa ethos, but he was badly mistaken.
In October 2007 Europe’s all-powerful anti-rotation lobby finally bullied Fifa into submission and a terse announcement announcing the end of rotation was made in Zurich following a decision by vote at a Fifa executive committee meeting. The announcement is striking for its understatement. It simply said: “The World Cup will no longer be rotated among continents, a decision… that will open the race for the 2018 tournament. The decision came in a vote by soccer’s governing body.”
This backward decision dealt a body blow to the aspirations of the other continents and confederations to host the Fifa World Cup on an equal footing with Europe. As it was, Europe has already unfairly hosted the bulk of the tournaments, and while the Fifa executive committee decision of 29 October 2007 ostensibly announced the end of the rotation system among continents, in effect it reinstated Fifa’s unofficial policy of awarding Europe every other World Cup. After all the fanfare that accompanied the introduction of the rotation system among continents, which Blatter had sold with such passion, eloquence and sincerity, the shocking decision to reverse this equitable system was slipped in via the back door.
Once again Europe’s highly funded, highly organised and highly vocal soccer bullies had used their over-representation on the Fifa executive committee to get their way: this time to conveniently scupper the rotational system before the Confederation of North, Central American and Caribbean Association Football could host the World Cup after South America. So Europe got what it always wanted: to keep things the way they always were. The motto of the European lobby seems to be: “Forget fair play, forget any sense of decency and democracy and just treat the Fifa World Cup as if it were Europe’s property that can be shared with others at Europe’s pleasure.”
My latest Daily Maverick column
Blacks do tip. That’s only half the story. That’s what I know; what I’ve seen with my own eyes. But I digress. Blacks don’t tip. That’s what we are told by those who care to let us know such things. That’s the other half of the story.
If the “Blacks don’t tip” myth were true, this would make blacks the most ungrateful restaurant guests. Because to tip is not only to help pay a waiter’s salary, but to show appreciation for a service that, when it’s well delivered, turns a meal into a moment of culture. After all, one legend has it that the tradition of the tip comes from the habit gentlemen had of tipping their hat as a gesture of good will.
Given the amount of ubuntu that’s stuffed into their hearts from the day they are born, it is impossible to imagine South African blacks suddenly holding back on their legendary generosity just because they are in a restaurant. Why would they? This is what makes the origins of this myth such a mystery. It is true that when segregated dining came to an end in the early ’90s, relations between black diners and waiters were sometimes frosty as they sized each other up. But the reality of a rapidly growing black customer base soon displaced any mutual suspicions and the restaurant business has never been the same since.
What is remarkable about the “Blacks don’t tip” claim is that it has been around for so long, yet it is uttered when you least expect it. And each time I hear it, it cuts like a knife, slicing cruelly through one’s sense of what’s right. I have known some blacks to go beyond the customary 10% and up to a 20% tip as their way of demonstrating that they – we – do tip. Of course, this is a ridiculous way of dealing with what is a largely ridiculous claim, but then human beings are known to throw logic down the tube when it comes to stereotypes.
I have sat in on heated debates on this very topic and seen just how poisonous it is, quickly souring even the sweetest afternoon among friends. Like all urban legends, it inspires those taking part in the debate to take starkly opposite positions.
Often sandwiched in between is a less animated group trying to give reasons why they shouldn’t tip in the first place. Passionate as the arguers may be, I am always aware of just how painfully futile the whole thing is.
Let me pose a question to those who buy the stereotype. If blacks indeed do not tip, why are they received with such obvious warmth in the restaurants they continue to visit in such large numbers? There is no doubt there would be consequences for breaking one of the most sacrosanct customs of eating out. Would they not be shunted to the very worst tables at restaurants – the tables no one wants – and would the waiters not serve them with a coldness that would spoil their dining experience? This is where you see the cracks start to appear in this half-baked story.
So it seems fairly obvious that the notion that “Blacks don’t tip” is based on nothing but pure baloney, but like so much that is social baloney, it tends to stick to the innocent and the guilty alike. I have sometimes wondered, when the waiters give my table a wide berth, whether they think I belong in the circle of those that don’t tip. But I’ve learnt not to allow such stereotypes to hold me back in my own life, and so I always put it down to the fact that some waiters actually do not like their jobs.
Of course, these are the waiters who serve you with a long face, and every one of their gestures tells you just how much hard work it is to serve you. To me these are the waiters who do not deserve any tip at all because they inspire no goodwill.
Even when you lift your hand in a desperate attempt to attract their attention, they will find a way to somehow not see you, until one of their colleagues rushes to your table. But come the time to settle the bill, they suddenly remember that they are serving your table and reappear as if by magic.
Fortunately, restaurants are also full of fine waiters, men and women who truly love their jobs. It often seems it is as much for them as for the food that we return to our favourite spots. These are the waiters who walk towards your table with a smile that can melt a frozen heart. In that instant all is forgotten as you turn your attention to the fine art of dining.
Photograph by Victor Dlamini
My latest Daily Maverick column:</i.
There is no African Time, in fact. There never was, and there never has been. This is the good news.
No society can hope to be competitive or catch up if it disrespects time. Unfortunately – and this is the bad news – the concept of African Time continues to provide a convenient excuse for the tardiness of those who are lazy or just plain rude. Of course, those who invoke African Time are not stupid, they know that by saying that it is part of African culture to disregard punctuality, very few will have the nerve to challenge them.
Like many things attributed to some ancient, but still prevalent social norm, African Time does not stand up to scrutiny. If you go to even the simplest village you immediately realise just how much the village folk respect time. If there is a gathering, the ordinary folk will all be there on time. What’s more, even the unemployed villager will be up at the crack of dawn to make the most of his day. So African Time is nothing but a myth.
I suspect all of us have known all along that African Time is a very tall tale told by those who want to be late and hide behind some supposedly collective and cultural disregard for time. But too many of us have been too polite to laugh in the face of those who try to peddle this nonsense and to tell them to be on time. Quite why we have been prepared to suffer largely in silence is beyond me, but I do think that in 2010 the time is ripe to say enough is enough.
African Time continues to give Africans a bad name. It lingers around like an awful smell that will just not go away. Everywhere you go you see examples of tardiness that can be linked back to the myth of African Time. I have lost count of the number of otherwise classy events held at swanky venues I have attended that still started an hour late. Nothing is safe from African Time. I have been to weddings that started up to three hours later than the advertised time. And the guests waited and survived on a mixture of small talk and gossip.
There is truly nothing more annoying than to receive an invitation to an up-market event and, when you arrive at the venue, there is hardly anyone there, not even the host. Invariably, if you bother to call them to find out why they are late, they tell you that they are around the corner, or the perennial favourite, they are five minutes away. Of course, that always turns out to be untrue and you end up waiting and wondering why they did not just choose a time they could manage.
What gets to me are the many senior officials in both politics and business that seem to delight in arriving late, as if this confirmed their status. As for the politicians, I have no words to describe their habitual failure to be on time – especially given that so many of them whizz past the traffic at the flick of their blue lights and their loud sirens.
My colleague and friend Dale Hefer will publish her new book, From Witblitz to Vuvuzelas, with Oshun this year. I had the pleasure of writing the foreword.
Here is her book’s blurb:
Founding director of Chillibush Communications (Pty) Ltd Dale Hefer started her company in 1998 as a one-woman show. Operating from a rented garage and using her boyfriend’s computer and money borrowed from her sister as start-up capital, Dale soon grew the business to the R1-million mark (just two years later, it was up to R18 million). Today Dale employs a team of 40-plus and has projected earnings of R70 to R80 million. In From Witblits to Vuvuzelas she shares a wealth of advice for South African marketers in witty, straight-talking style. The title provides guidelines based on the author’s years of experience with clients and incorporates invaluable insight from local marketing professionals. Each chapter contains personal anecdotes that illustrate key concepts, and focuses strongly on our diverse culture and the challenges and pitfalls that marketers encounter in this country. From Witblits to Vuvuzelas is an essential tool for anyone in the marketing industry or for those who want to enter the world of marketing.
I sat down with Dale to talk both about her writing and business success. Please enjoy our conversation on The Victor Dlamini Literary Podcast (in this case, with video):
Book details
Sometimes you have to wonder at the goings on in the marketing world. I mean, why else do we only get black diamonds? Would not diamonds in other colours sparkle just as dazzlingly? Come on all ye marketing wizards. Ye needs must conjure up other kinds of diamonds? Let our world have an abundance of diamonds, and not just the black ones.
So instead of the Black Diamonds our country would be teeming with an assortment of diamonds that would add a wondrous lustre to our cities. Can you imagine what kind of arsenal the marketer would have at his disposal if they could begin to fully mine the concept of diamonds and slap various incarnations of it across our social strata. There would be no end in sight to what could be conjured up by the marketer with a powerful enough imagination.
Let your imagination carry you forth. We could have pale diamonds! I don’t know if pale qualifies as a colour, but certainly in my time I’ve come across enough people that are so short on colour that pale will do them just fine. What of blue diamonds, even azure ones? They too would have an incredible sparkle, their inner light radiating something of the mystery that has forever rendered the diamond almost unknowable. As for yellow diamonds, well, why not? For all I care they could even be a mixture of colours, a heady mix of all the strongest colours. A cacophony of colours, some cold, others warm, a few even hot, but still recognizably diamonds with colour.
Why am I asking for these other diamonds when you may well suspect that black diamonds enjoy all the attention showered on them as the only diamonds in town. I do so because deep down I do think that it will be best for all of us if we move to extend the diamond franchise to South Africans of all hues. To put it simply, ours is a binary world in which day follows night, joy follows pain, and so it is not right for Black Diamonds to be thrust out there with no corresponding opposite or sets of opposites to balance the scales.
All I ask is that the great marketers who have coined the idea of black diamonds should help us know how to negotiate our way round this complex world. Otherwise the concept of black diamonds feels a little hollow in its current incarnation when it suggests but denies us the necessary balance of the binary divide.
But are there other kinds of diamonds in South Africa, or are we stuck with the black diamonds? I wanted to find out, and so the other day on a fine, if slightly overheated day in Johannesburg, I went in search of any diamonds but the black ones. And before I could get much further than the borders of Sandton, I’d come across so many other diamonds that I was at a loss for why our marketers have chosen to restrict this most charming marker to only those that fit the bill of black diamond.
I have no doubt that anyone else who would go out in search of these diamonds would find them as easily as I did, whether it be in the ridges of Waterkloof, Umhlanga, Northcliff or the Southern Surburbs of Cape Town, or strewn across the glittering malls that have come to dominate the lives of so many South Africans.
How do you know that you’re in the presence of a South African diamond? Well, it’s quite simple really. The oversized cars, the obsession with the mobile phone, the (faux) designer clothing, the dazzling smiles that go hand in hand with shopping on credit (often extended credit- if you can fathom that).
These diamonds have much, much in common than the marketers would let us believe. So I say we’ve been duped into watching out for the black diamonds whilst all around us other South African diamonds go undetected, engaging recklessly in the pursuit of happiness that all South African diamonds have turned into a modern day religion
It is time that we realized that no one is safe from the diamonds, and that as South Africa has got to grips with the joys and the tribulations of democracy, it has had to accept that even in or corner of the world, it is OK for those that work hardest to splash out on themselves with their share of the democratic spoils. Those that denounce the hedonists forget that the pursuit of joy and happiness is a cornerstone of democratic discourse. Especially because ours is a decidedly secular state!
Let our marketers take note that as we bid 2009 goodbye, we should be ready to welcome all the other South African diamonds into the fold of diamonds. There is room for much more than only Black Diamonds.
My latest column for The Daily Maverick:
I may have my doubts about the effectiveness of hangover cures, but I have always admired those who create and market these concoctions.
Each time I hear one of their campaigns, I realise that these are people who have studied the hangover and know it is no child’s play. So they zero in on how nasty the hangover is and they promise the sufferer who turns to their product instant relief.
You have to give it to them for marshalling all their knowledge to position their product as the solution to all babalaas blues. Still, there are as many advocates of these cures as there are detractors. But the merchants know that for as long as there are those who drink and party hard, they will be in business.??It is, of course, no surprise at all that none of the magic hangover cures highlights the importance of moderation as the best way to prevent the terrible hangover. No one can expect them to promote the kind of behaviour that would reduce demand for their much-vaunted cures.
Not only do they come up with the most colourfully named products for their hangover cures, but if you listen closely to their campaigns, you get the sense that they are having the last laugh. I think you need to have your tongue lodged firmly in your cheek to make some of the claims made on behalf of hangover cures. But marketers know that nothing sells as well as what the target market wants to hear.
In the land of hangover cures they make outlandish claims on behalf of their products. Short of reviving one from the dead, there is nothing their concoction cannot do – or so they claim. From their messages it is quite clear that the dreaded babalaas is one of the most unwelcome side effects of the hard-partying season. It is why the hangover cure becomes so irresistible to those under the spell of a once-off or, in certain sad cases, permanent hangover.
The promises of relief are always highly welcome. It is this, more than anything else, that the purveyors of hangover cures understand. For those who cannot stay away from drink need to know that instant salvation is at hand.??You would have thought that the hard times would reduce the hard partying, but quite the opposite seems to have happened. Even during these austere times when the word recession has become commonplace, South Africans have not lost their ability to party hard. As we enter the holiday season and all accept that this is a time of unrestrained revelry, the merchants of hangover cures reappear.
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