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I bleed Rugby!

Many people who know me have heard me say this statement many a time. And if you are to ask me when this “obsession” came about, I can’t honestly pinpoint it, but I thank my parents for coming to South Africa so I could get to know this AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL game!

Now how much do I bleed for Rugby? Case in point, when I was 13 years old, whilst at the KZN U/13 rugby trials, I was tackled so hard, that I broke my left leg in 3 places, and till this day, I still have the steel rod and screws keeping my leg together. Then less than a year later, during my first year in an all boy’s boarding school; against doctors’ orders, I got back onto the field behind my parents back. End result, during another bad tackle, my right knee cap broke like a chicken bone and did a 180 degree. I was rushed to hospital and had to have my right knee popped back into place and reconstructed. I had a full leg cast for months.

Sure you are all wincing in pain, and probably thinking that I learnt my lesson? Well not really, as the pull and hold that rugby had on me, drew me back to the rugby fields just over a year later and there I have stayed ever since, I just can’t help it to be honest. It is one of the reasons that I decided to study PR, because if I can’t play at the level that I had always dreamed, I want to one day at least be part of a team that brings a team’s brand and the power and passion that this game can create to as many as possible. And I got a taste of this whilst interning for the Sharks in ‘09, and it affirmed that I had made the right career choice.

Looking back, would I do it all again? Most def! Even though I get aches and pains now and then over a decade on from the surgeries; I can’t walk as fast or easily as I would like and my left foot tilts slightly to an angle no matter how I try to straighten it, I wouldn’t change a thing. For I bleed rugby and my experiences have taught me a lot about myself, passion and perseverance against the odds (many with my injuries would probably not be able to walk today without a cane). So when you have a passion or a love, live it out till your fullest, because only then are you truly alive!

I am proud of my name, my heritage and what my name represents, but it does get a bit tedious having to explain things time and time again to people and said people still repeating themselves and asking for an explanation because they just don’t get it. Sigh…

So here goes, sweet and short. My name is KWADWO, but phonetically, it is pronounced KOH-JOE! My name means male Monday born in my parents’ country of birth. I am South African born to Ghanaian parents. So that makes me a Ghanaian South African if I am not mistaken.

foundationsforfreedom.net

foundationsforfreedom.net

Now why didn’t my parents have my name spelt the way it is pronounced? Because they are traditionalists and preferred the traditional linguistic spelling to Anglicizing it like my sisters 3rd name which many still can’t pronounce (spelt phonetically as Achiaa, but traditionally and linguistically, it is meant to be Akyea).

So please, if you can’t pronounce my name due to its spelling, ask me and pay attention when I pronounce it. Please don’t then proceed to ask me why it isn’t spelt like it’s pronounced or ask me to change it to something easier (are you serious about your life?!). It kinda smacks of… let me know say it. So yea, I love my name, it’s a representation of my heritage, so take it or leave it, or be left behind in the dark ages.

I have realized that this popular myth from Western culture, somehow managed to penetrate African homes. Case in point is that after seeing and hearing stories that whenever it rains and the sun comes out and there is a rainbow after, if you follow the rainbow til its end, you will find a pot of gold.

Needless to say, one day my inquisitive 5 year old self decided to put this to the test. So rounding up my posse of neighbourhood friends, after some summer rains and sighting a big, beautiful rainbow close to my home, we set off.

One thing I noticed, it was never mentioned anywhere how long such a journey would take, because it seemed that the closer we got, the further back the rainbow retreated, but still I forced us to solider on (I mean my rep was on the line, even at 5 years old, I had one people)! Finally we got to the end of the rainbow, and guess what?!?! Absolutely nothing! To say that I was gutted is an understatement. I stared blankly for seconds, and then sent people off to search and dig, but nothing.

By this time dusk was setting in, so we had to head on home. It was a difficult journey for me, as I just wanted to cry on my mommy’s lap, but still had to appear strong for the troops. So onward we marched. When I got home, it was very late, too late for someone of my age to be roaming the streets and I knew that on top of losing my street cred, I was probably going to get a hiding from my mom. Because coming home at 8pm was the same coming home at 1am for a teenager.

But as soon as I walked in, I let my eyes water and my lips tremble (knowing that I’m a spitting image of my mom), I used this all to my advantage. She took one look at me and asked me to sit down, and my misadventure of the day tumbled out. When I was done, she gave me supper and an ice-cream lolly as treat and I went to bed. Now that was one bullet dodged!

Needless to say, I was on the D-Low for the rest of the week and stayed indoors, til eventually my posse missed me (their leader) and came to look for me. Oh how fickle a child’s mind is at that age! Anyway, the moral of that story, THEY LIED!!! I didn’t find gold, so I couldn’t become rich and by myself sweets forever and ever. So kids, Google it before you believe in it!

My sister asks me this question at least once a week. In her opinion, it is like I am glued to my phone 24/7. And well, I decided to take a few moments to ponder this question. So! If I think about it, I honestly wouldn’t know what I would do without my phone, because personally, smart phones are the best thing to have ever been created in my opinion. They bring everything to one place.

I can check my email, facebook and twitter accounts; chat on mxit, whats app, skype, gchat, facebook chat, and msn, all in between taking calls, listening to music/the radio and responding to my mom’s sms’ (everyone one I know has a smart phone or a BB besides my parents and my dad prefers to call). This allows me to stay connected and be in touch whilst I’m on the move. Bliss!

So if I have to think about it, without my Android, it would be like a world without Rugby (scary thought!) – a world where nothing matters, where boredom is your daily staple. Almost like when my parents were young in my opinion (what did they do to stay entertained and abreast of things?). Sigh…

So yes, I don’t think that I would survive or manage to live without my Android. A bit dramatic, but I’m being serious. I don’t even want to imagine it! And if you don’t believe me, those who are as addicted as me, try to be without your smart phones for a week and get back to me and let’s see how it works out for you shall we? I shall be awaiting a report.

My Sister

My sister and I have more conversations on Whats App than we do face to face, all this whilst living together in a 2 bedroom. I am sure what springs to mind is”WEIRD MUCH??” Lol! Maybe, maybe not.

Yes she has her eccentricities: has a habit of talking to herself constantly and never realizes it til you tell her; only sleeps on one side of the bed, and can’t explain why; carries hand sanitizer, panados, vix, a comb and tissues in her bag AT ALL TIMES and loudly announces this wherever we go; has never walked barefoot as a child because even then she believed that “There are germs everywhere and we are not safe.” Well you get the picture.

I mean yes, she can be SO embarrassing most of the time like most big sisters can be, and we are total opposites and don’t understand each other, but she tries. And that is what matters. We don’t show it, but I know through actions that the love is there. And hey, they do say that actions speak louder than words.

My sister is unique and as her friends like to jokingly say, “Different, because there is no one out there like her.” And I have come to believe that this is true. She skips along to her own beat, but this is not to say she has a screw loose. On the contrary, she has 4 qualifications now (2 of these come from UCT, grudgingly the best university in the country) and she is only 27, and has now applied to do a 5th qualification (her Masters, which will be in Sports, can you imagine) at two universities next year.

So yea, she is very different, an embarrassment at times, a little eccentric, but hey, was greatness ever achieved from being ordinary? #Just saying. But all in all, I don’t think I would return her to the Storks and ask for a different model. She is who she is, and I’m ok with it.

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Ride til we die

I have never really thought about this! I guess if I were too draw up one of these lists that involve a bucket it would look like this:

  1. Draw up a bucket list…..

Aaabedibedibedibedi…. That’s all folks (Looney Toons voice). Sadly I live for the moment, I take each day as it comes. For now I will put this list on ice (met ys ja). I’ll be back! (Gov Arny voice).

P.S Seth Godin eat you heart out, micro blogging at its best.

Everyone has their happy place. That place they go to be alone from the world, a place where you are the captain of your own ship (be warned this post is not for the faint hearted)

Mine is the bathroom, no I don’t go in there and stare at myself. I’m most at peace when I’m taking a long peaceful dump… haha my family over the years have developed these jokes involving me giving birth due to the time I spend thinking about world peace…

Where do you go to find your happy place? And do you think about world peace like me?

Have you ever met someone who seems to groove to the beat of their own drum? And try to figure them out, but they seem to be a lost cause and you just leave them to it? I’m feeling some confused facial reflections on computer screens, so let me explain.

My sister is one of these sad people. Yes I know I refer to her alot, but she is special, bless her (cue in canned laughter). She is the one of those who is the last to laugh after everyone has stopped laughing, and then she will ask for an explanaition on why we laughing. Or everyone will get the punchline and after the 5th explanaition, its not funny anymore. Or she will laugh at her own jokes. Shame…

I have also spent many a night explaining comedy to her. Most of the time she gets it, but is the only one who doesnt get it enough to laugh. Stand up comedy is also not her thing (bless her). She will probably be the only one in the room not laughing, and not coz she doesnt get it (most times), but coz she doesnt find it funny (so she claims).

But not to worry, help is on its way. Enough petitions and one day I can start a help group – Humour Us Anonymous.

I would love to say that I’m motivated by all the people who have stood by me and motivated me when I was at my lowest, but then I would just be telling a fib. Those people make you lazy and comfortable; if you really want to be motivated… find inspiration from all your haters!

Hear me out, before you throw rotten vegetables at me! I’m sure all of you at one point or another wanted to call up an ex lover who said you would never amount to anything, when you got that dream job and started living “The dream” cause I know it has crossed my mind a few times.

You see it’s those people who motivate me; they make me want to push myself till I achieve all I set to accomplish! So to all my haters and people who shot me and my dreams down. Thank You! You are the reason I wake up in the morning.

“The situation is the coaches select the basic minimum black players in the team and relax thereafter and overlook good players,”

This was a statement made by ANC secretary-general Gwede Mantashe on Wednesday, I read an article on www.rugby365.com and the whole time, asking myself “Shouldn’t our leadership be fixing the many social and economic problems our people face every day?” cause this has been a topic that has been on the lips of many politicians forever.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for transformation, but not at the expense of these talented “Black sports men/women” who are  indirectly guinea pigs who through mismanagement end up involved in crime and getting murdered in Taverns.

The best solution would be to fix the country starting with our leadership, then filtering down to areas like sport. Till then leave sport alone and let the boys play!