Throwbacks: Goodie Mob

So this morning, I was listening to Still Tippin and mk called me out for listening to trap music so early in the morning. I realised that in fact, lately, I've been listening to a lot of that kind of music, and I've been digging that ol' dirrrty dirrrrty. What I've been bumping a lot of on my ipod though, is a certain is an often forgotten classic album from Goodie Mob, Still Standing. I know I say this all the time, but if you aren't familiar, you might have to kill yourself already.

These guys ARE dirty south. I will always love this album, and of course, how could I not love Soul Food. This is Cee-lo's beginning, and I will always love dude because he's really managed to evolve in his music, without losing credibility, respect and fans (and when he realised that he was a grown man, he replaced his full mouth grill with super white veneers). In fact, he's done what few hip hop artists are ever able to do- transcend boundaries as an artist. The other person I really dig for that is RZA, but that's another blog post all together. Don't me wrong, I'm not singling out Cee-lo because Khujo is one of the most underrated rhymists for me, and Big Gipp and T-Mo have had their own collabo's with artists too.

You might have heard the song below, maybe in the club, or heard a really cool person humming it, or a tryina be cool cornball sayin "dey don dance no mo, all they do is THIS"...Aaaaanyway, here's a video of They Don't Dance No More. I still have my Still Standing album in MINT CONDITION. That's something coming from me, because I haven't respected physical music in about 10 years (yeah, I've been downloading music since diap-up days, you ignorant grasshopper).

Ginger Madness: Quick Stir Fry Recipe

As if the mint & ginger infused green tea wasn't enough to satisfy my craving for ginger, I had to take it a step further. This week, I was wandering around the food isles at Woolies trying to figure out what I would make for my lunch. As usual, I wandered aimlessly for about 20 minutes before realising what my body craved. See, I have to walk around and let my eyes take it all in and communicate with the belly to see if the little man inside jumps up for joy or curls up writhing in feigned pain.

So anyway, after scanning the near empty salad shelves (it was evening-time, and they only had those pasta salads - grossums), my eyes settled on the stir-fry veggie mix. He was jumping for joy- this had to be the meal! Then I had to make the decision- to noodle or not to noodle...I know it sounds crazy but a stir-fry is perfectly good without rice or noodles. Right. Settled on no noodles, no rice. What follows is the recipe I've had for the last two days. It's deelish. Please try it. I don't really do the thing of measuring quantities when cooking, so bear with me please.

Ingredients

Stir-Fry Mix from Woolies/Spar/P&P - or you can make your own using

julliened carrots
florets of broccoli
chopped onion
cabbage (red,white or chinese)
spinach
chinese/regular mushrooms
julliened baby marrows
chopped coriander (not a lot-so it take your taste buds' attention from the ginger-chillies taste)

and whatever else you fancy in your stir-fry

cloves garlic
ginger root
soy sauce/fish sauce
Whole chillies
olive oil/grapeseed oil

Method

Pour a tablespoon of chosen oil into pan. Heat.
Using a pestle and motar, crush chillies, ginger and garlic, then throw it into the pan for frying.
When flavours release, throw the veggies in and mix it all up
Keep turning the veggies over to ensure heat distribution and to make sure all veggies are cooking.
If you like to add salt to everything, this is the part where you add some salt.
Pour some soy or fish sauce and simmer- BUT DON'T LET THE VEGGIES DIE.

Serve with whatever tickles your fancy.

It's very quick to make but it tastes soooooo good!

P.S Sorry for the kak pic, I ate the food faster than I could blog about it. LOL

Artists I Like: Marc Baptiste

I've been meaning to blog about Marc Baptiste for years now, and I still haven't. Marc is one of my faourite photographers, and when you see some of his work, I'm sure you'll understand why. Haitian by birth, this man's work is often emotive- but then again, what's the point of a photograph if it's not emotive?

Anyway, so Marc has shot for a gazillion magazines including Cosmopolitan, Vanity Fair, Harper's Bazaar, Trace and (my favourite magazine) Clam.He's shot more celebrities than I want to fit into this post and has also worked with various clients including Nike and Reebok.

Marc's work caught my eye around '07 when I was paging through a Clam magazine - and then even more a few months later when I heard about his book Beautiful. The book challenges the same old boring stereotypes of nudity of black women in the media: draped semi-naked across cars, grinding against a man, fighting with another woman over a man who probably doesn't care about them (Flavor of Love, For The Love Of Ray Jay) and all the other depictions of black women in magazines like King, XXL, The Source as well music videos.

In his book Beautiful, he's photographed some of the most beautiful women in different phases in their lives. Some of the models are very well known, while others might not be immediately recognisable.

You can see more of his images and profile on his website and his blog.

Tea Infusions: Mint Green Tea

So I really love drinking tea. My main kind is ceylon tea, but I generally venture into other kinds depending on my mood. I love teas from everywhere, and I especially love adding masala to  , I've decided to lay off the regular ceylon tea though, because drinking it means I end up consuming a lot of sugar. So in my effort to be healthy, I haven't had ceylon tea in 10 days. At all. Instead, I've been making tea infusions and the one below is by far my favourite. It has such a fresh taste and everything inside it works towards helping my body function.

Mint Green Tea

Ingredients

Green Tea
A few sprigs of mint (according to taste)
Ginger slices or chunks (according to taste)
A pinch of aniseed

Stick em all in a teapot, tea infuser or a cup, pour some boiling water and allow to stand for a few minutes so as to bring the flavours out, and then enjoy. If you prefer a more lasting taste, put the ingredients in a flask and allow to stand for about two hours before drinking.

I enjoy the taste of mint in tea- it's fresh and lasting- and I love that mint is good for my dodgy digestive system. Ginger is great for the immune system, so I know the flu isn't touching me again this winter. Aniseed is also a digestive aid, and has a great licoricey taste.

I'm still deciding whether I should substitute the mint for cinnamon sticks, but we'll see in time.

Bad Ass Females: Nicole Lyons

If you know me, then you definately know that I love to have bad ass women around me. If not around me, I at least love to know of them. Imagine my giggles when I discovered one Nicole Lyons- the first black woman to race and compete in the National Hot Rod Association (NHRA), the drag racing authority States-side. She's so into her cars, that she's built some award winning engines (She once won an award for building an 1100 hp 565 naturally aspirated engine. I'm not sure what that is but I think it's good) AND she owns a muscle car restoration shop called "Cole Muscle Cars". If I was a dude, this is the type of girl I would be gunning for; fearless, stunning, ambitious and feminine.

Cyanide...

R.I.P Lumumba

This is one of my heroes and inspirations to be a better person and a better African. Patrice Lumumba. His birthday would have been on July 2nd, and he would have been 85. He was a man of vision, and his vision was one of a united, powerful Africa. It can happen. I know this because he would have never been murdered if it was impossible. They know how a powerful Africa could level the playing field, that's why they continue to have a go at our Achilles. We can still do it.

In the memory of our fathers and mothers, we have no choice but to rise, or face a future where those who have had no hand in our liberation victoriously walk over fields of our skulls.

Without dignity there is no liberty, without justice there is no dignity, and without independence there are no free men. - Patrice Lumumba '60

Article: Death Of The Independent Sneaker Store

If you know me, you know that I *heart* kicks for real. You also know that I prefer small boutique stores and I certainly don't enjoy looking like everyone else. This Sneaker Freaker article really interested me and I feel compelled to share with the 3 1/2 people that read my blog.

In South Africa, the market is as small as a pin head, it's not easy to run an independent store that does more than break even. I think too many store owners adopt methods from overseas that can't fully work in S.A. We have to think of ourselves as 1000 steps back in terms of streetwear culture (that goes beyond chucks, dickies pants and spotties) in S.A. We are not a developed market in terms of individuality etc. and Joburg and Cape Town and Durban (where applicable) are easy enough to penetrate into when you're dealing with a handful of people, but when you're trying to get mass reach, that's when you walk into a brick wall.

Read more of the article here.

My First Time: Not Yet Uhuru

For the first six years of my life, my family was very close knit, and made up of very few people. Well, compared to a lot of people, I guess my family was still very big. It was made of my parents, three siblings, my mother's four siblings, three of my cousins and two of my father's siblings. There were names that floated around during conversations about abuti such and such in exile or ausi mang mang ko Zambia but it never really registered what these people were doing in exile. I thought exile was a country and these people that my family kept referring to were living amazing lives and didn't have to worry about hippos, stay aways and such on a daily basis. I thought "the struggle" was in South Africa. In Soweto. Not in Pietersburg, because my coloured family lived the life there: nice houses that were made up of more than three rooms and bathrooms in the house and nice schools. And they never seemed to be concerned about stay aways, staying out of the way of marching IFP mobs, wondering where missing family and friends are, or any of that stuff that seemed to form my environment back home in Soweto.

1991 arrived. Mandela had been released and freedom was on the horizon. Lots of MK soldiers that we never thought we would ever see again were beginning to return home, and we sensed hope in the adults' voices when eavesdropping on their conversations.
I remember the first time I heard Letta Mbulu's Not Yet Uhuru. My mother's eldest sister- whose name was just a figment of conversation between family members and never really a real part of our family- had finally arrived. She who they called Sesi. They didn't even call her by her real name. I couldn't understand why until I finally met her. She pulled everyone together, and spontaneously, there was a huge party right there in the yard. Struggle songs could be heard from the corners as neighbours came out to greet and party with the returning soldiers and people who had snuck out of the country decades earlier. This was the moment of the formation of my family as I know it now.



This was my first time. The drums combined Mme Letta's powerful commanding voice implored you to listen to her message. Not Yet Uhuru. Immediately, perhaps because I had become a product of my environment, I knew exactly what the song meant. That freedom will never be here until it is accessible to everyone in every corner in all of its manifestations. But, we stlil celebreated. We celebreated because we were alive, that we were together, that we had all found our way back to each other again. That our family had been reunited. Surely, better days were to come.

Tonight, driving through the leafy yet badly potholed streets of Bryanston en route to one of the poshest surburbs of Johannesburg- the wealthiest African city, almost eerily, the disk changer switched to Letta's CD. Of course I pumped up the volume and sang along. Four times. Then I found ened up in the middle of a conversation with myself about what it is that Africa needs in order to reach its full potential. This is a conversation I often have with myself, and it often leaves me back at square one. Without political will, meaningful public participation in governance and lawmaking, solid economic-educational-health policies, we are done for. We will never rise in the way that we can.

Phew. This is a long post. And it's late. It shall continue. Not Yet Uhuru.

Studded Louboutin Kicks

As seen on the feet of my fav rappers that I like to hear rapping sexy and romantic vibes to a girl - Fabolous, Juelz and Pharrell (is Skateboard P a rapper? iono lol). I could def buy these for a boy. And for myself too.

Unfortunately, Gucci Mane has also been spotted rocking them. I wish he'd stuck to wearing those tasteless Gucci kicks I've seen him in.

50-50

I'm all alone in this world, she said,
Aint for nobody to share my bed,
Aint got nobody to hold my hand-
The truth of the matter's
I ain't got no man.

Big Boy opened his mouth and said,
Trouble with you is
you ain't got no head!
If you had a head and used your mind
You could have me with you
All the time.

She answered, Babe, what must I do?

He said, share your bed -
And your money too.

Langston Hughes

Throwbacks: Camp Lo

Man, Camp Lo just brings back memories! It was 1996, I was young and had already been culturally socialised (thanks to my brother) to understand hip hop and to love it. Even though I was an annoying 11 year old, my brother still kicked it with me and even taught me what a "bar" is and I was proud to be the one that schooled so many boys on such basic knowledge. My brother, who was in matric at the time, had previously tried to make me less boyish by buying me a Mariah Carey Fantasy single- and my favourite version was the one with ODB in it. There was just no hope for me.

So anyway, come 1996 and my brother was banging Camp Lo around the house and of course the big tune was Luchini. Well, hip hop just wouldn't be without a sample and in this particular instance, the legendary Ski (shame on you if you don't know who that is) sampled Dynasty's Adentures In Music. I still listen to Geechi and Sonny every now and then and it always leaves me smiling and yearning a little for the good ol days when talent was all that mattered. As with all of hip hop, beats are recycled- sometimes cleverly and sometimes really badly. Have a listen to Camp Lo's Luchini aka This Is It and decide for yourself whether it was a good sample and think about whether you've heard any subsequent samples from this.

If you have never heard of Camp Lo, kill yourself. (I know, that's real mature of me, hey?)

Artifying Darth Vader's Helmet

I love this exhibition. Invite 100 artists to go wild with Darth Vader's helmet, and they'll give you some amazing work. Mocoloco say that the exhibition has been travelling for four years and will exhibit in L.A before heading to Philly for auction. Too bad it didn't make it to Joburg City because I love this and so does my inner geek.

Images lifted from one of my favourite design/art blogs.

Magnified Heart

This is an amazing magnified image of a heart that I lifted from National Geographic to share.

Video: Why Don't You Love Me

When I saw Solange post a link to this video, I ignored it- until a few seconds later when I realise that Solange herself had written the track. See, I'm more of a fan of Solange than Beyonce. I generally don't give Beyonce two glances; especially since I don't watch music television anymore, and I'm not a big music radio station person. Except on Sundaze. On Metro. Anywho, the other reason I paid attention to this video was because Melina directed the video, and I can't deny myself some Melina.

Why Don't You Love Me

Looking at it, the art direction is really fun, the wardrobe cool in that Beyonce way. Except, Bey wishes she was housewife material-she can't even cook to save her life. But ja, I love the song-you can tell that it's Solange's work - even though there's a credit for her sister (we know that story lol).



The song resonates so much with situations that so many women find themselves in, when they feel insignificant, like they are not good enough, and are not worthy of their partner's affection, even when they actually are. The worst thing about being in that situation is that it borders on emotional abuse. You find yourself wondering why such and such a person needs to stray to validate themselves when you- his wife (sexy, smart and all) are there waiting for him every night.

Why don't you love me?
Tell me, baby, why don't you love me
When I make me so damn easy to love?
And why don't you need me?
Tell me, baby, why don't you need me
When I make me so damn easy to need?

I got beauty, I got class
I got style, and I got ass
And you don't even care to care
Looka here
I even put money in the bank account
Don't have to ask no one to help me out
You don't even notice that

But maybe he doesn't love her because- as she says; she's got beauty and she's got class. She never mentions intelligence. But it's Beyonce. lol