Be no modern slave.

Rob ( A white young man) was so excited to share information with his peers about some new invention. And all the boys was so excited to hear what he had to say, with no hint of defense they had listened, and they were all then provoked to ask more questions. I was pleasantly surprised to see how educational it was and how the information penetrated the minds of the white boys and mostly moved by the fascination on their faces.

I asked myself why that tradition of sharing information is not something common in the black community. I found it that whenever I engage in a conversation with a group of intellectuals,. Brothers and sisters listens, and impatiently waiting for their turn to dispute or make a “better” point. The priority is not really sharing the information but rather protecting their own intellectual capacity or status. At times they will even retain information of development just so that they will remain being idolized by the fellow brothers in their hoods and sadly fear to share information that could empower and uplift them. I ask myself, if society praises one so much for one’so intellectual capacity yet we don’t even realize that we have become so addicted to the title to being regarded as the smartest and would therefore fail to share information with other and when we do ,its still subtly motivated for an intrinsic boost of ego or validation.

 How are we going to eliminate the stereotype that ”Black people only know as much as they are told to know”. This ill is found not just socially but unfolds itself in many podiums. We wake up to social media that teaches us the importance  of meeting friend at expensive restaurants ,checking in for more like, taking photos and forgetting to embrace and celebrate the moment yet we still claim that It was fun”. We claim to be so smart and can never raise a hand when asked who makes saving money a habit (I too fall victim to such). When we as black people continuously clap hands to black empowerment (wish it was called human empowerment). Yet we still fall slaves to the teachings of the western.  

Im still bothered when we as gay people (the community society boxed us in) hates each other and still fails to understand, why I as a young men…oh gay..uhm black gay guy..uhm a black .Setswana gay men, the skirmish between religious groups ,race, cultural groups etc. is a battle that we will continuously fight. I would at times want to say that the battles we are fighting are bigger than the subject. It’s a battle of darkness. The scars of Apartheid are deep , so deep that we ask ourselves are we ever gonna get to a day that we will say “ we are over that?”” Maybe not…but I do believe that there might be a day where a man will share information with anyone because as Africans believing in the spirit of Ubuntu. We support a notion that says we are one because of each other, if applaud is raised for that then it means information will be shared when no guards are on. Identity will be protected because we live in such a free world that it’s not needed.

A picture I took the other day with my Residence gang! Just love how cute they were!

 Acceptance will be the order of the day because people are content with who they are and only in love with personal development as priority to uplift their neighbor. And not just the  leaving your fellow brothers in the village, come to the city get educated and go back December holidays to reign and accumulate praise only, yet never sharing. I pray for the day people will not see me as a gay guy that black but a guy that is totally silly! And for that finding pleasure in my mind and character rather than annoyance in my presence. I pray for the day society will not measure the quality of people based on their popularity but on the value they add with their influence, and not value to Turn-up; but value that encourages self- development and need to get educated. I pray for that day that people will be so confident in their own skin where we don’t have to run around in the street and say Im Black!! Treat me Fairly. BUT say “Im Black! But the paint is still wet!”

Fellow brothers and sisters. That second you want to twerk again..think of Saartjie Baartman that was robbed from her humanity and integrity when she was displayed in a museum for  her physical attributes that the white men found bizarre and different. How slaves are you not to repeat the same act voluntarily and still use your intellect to justify it. Black brother when you feel the need to rape a lesbian sister in the hood, think about the day our fore fathers worked so hard, and were gunned down for fighting that we will someday live in a free country, and remember it was never said a free country for “black heterosexual people”. My educated brother and sister, when you open your bottle of cognac and dash it with ice and soda water in a soda glass( oh you drink it in a cognac glass under room temperature with no ice-that memo didn’t come with the degree) and you look down on the guy who use to walk with you in the dusty street, think about this June 16(a day not many understand its significance) and remember that a true educated men is that known to encourage education and shares knowledge.

Brothers and sisters…try to find that one in all of us! Be no modern slave!

Blessings never escape you,you escape them.

About two years ago I found myself with a “dollar and a dream” bolting from STS(small town syndrome) because of how cocooned my expression became. I remember finding myself at a space at my job where it just couldn’t get any better. Ever felt peak has been achieved and you just can’t grow anymore? Days became monotonous. Conversations became repetitive. My vision became blurred of other people that expressed themselves. Styles and trends had no individuality and I started to look like my friends. I knew deep down life had more to offer to be productive during the week and party like a rock star during weekends. My soul felt caged some days. I had to be cured from this. At times one becomes so loyal to the syndrome that the expansion of your thoughts is non-existent.

As I typed my resignation letter I could genuinely feel the cover of imprisonment plunging off and the excitement of possibility. Still very uncertain about my travelling arrangements. School wasn’t secured I certainly wasn’t certain about accommodation in Cape Town but I did know that I HAD NOTHING ANYWAY,SO THERE WAS NOTHING TO LOOSE so why not just chase the dream. 

A few days before I was to receive my 13^th cheque, I really just wanted to do something for the kids in my street and a good friend of mine, Lekhanyisa Mkiva had organized a lunch for all the street kids. I remember my friend getting of the phone and told me that his mom said : “Tell Gift that he will be blessed” I knew that meant something . But I also believed that it had meant something. I thought! Hell yeah, I could do with blessings!....

I had to leave on this specific Sunday and the buses were all fully booked. But that didn’t stop a hungry and determined soul! I went out the Saturday night, trusting that it was going to be my very last day in Upington. A bus ticket not booked, I guess all I could think of was being in Cape Town and never how I am getting there. Somewhat I have always been a soul that gives imagination the glory. I went to the club dancing like I was getting paid (hahaha, don’t I always) and saying my goodbyes to people. I remember as I went out, still wondering how I am going to leave and when? All fashion schools in Cape Town were getting full. 

A friend Moses, told me that he is leaving for Cape Town in the next 2 hours and that I could grab a lift. Because things always fall in place I silently thank God and well…I was happy. Left for Cape Town and got school against all odds.

As I was still staying with family friends of mine in some neighborhood, not very far from contracting the STS again. I still felt caged and not the expected liberation. Imagine a free spirited, expressionist and a creative soul being in a house where he watches 7de Laan, have supper and sit and hours of small town gossip! My soul felt in rage! But I couldn’t care less, im on a train every morning to fashion school. I COULD NOT HAVE BEEN HAPPIER.

 I had to move out one day or the other and had no idea where to go. I remember going to class, always cheerful till the thought of where I will sleep tonight spikes the last nerve and worry in me. Wynaand Booysen. My very first best friend picked me up and would patiently listen to my cry. In the midst of all the worries I somewhat found time to pay attention to my libido and emotions. I met The Solani’s. Amazing people who didn’t have the most but they had abundance of familyship and love. I needed that when I think of it now. It had humbled me and see myself as lucky for I have.

 I lived with them still praying I could find my own place at the OM Building with a balcony. Visiting a friend of mine I would pass the place imagining I stay In that very specific room. I started working extra hard. Friend in class became competition. Smiles in class became more fake and getting compliments from fellow classmates always seemed like a pain in anyone’s face to give.The only true friend I had was Chante in class. I felt how I am slowly growing. And it was at an unstoppable speed. I remember times I would have no funds to make t to school but I would still get to class. It was beautifully hard. I loved it. I knew I had the wisdom to see the beauty of my struggle, to recognize Gods presence in my life as I felt alone but never lonely.

THE LOGO TO THE NEW CLOTHING LINE.

 I met amazing people along the way. It has been a year already! I find myself in the room with the balcony t the OM Building. I find myself happy and raping every single opportunity that comes my way :-). Recently scored an internship with IFA-(Mercerdez Benz FASHION Week) Signed my first clothing line,Kgosiray deal with Raymonde which is just amazing! I am not a 90% student ,it’s not my aim. Im a skill full and creative student and the aim is to develop that.

ANCIENT DRESS UP COMPETITION AT SCHOOL AND I WON.

Blessings are like water when you are thirsty, but you gotta be nailed by the thirst before water becomes available. I am grateful for my wisdom that I have accumulated throughout my struggle. I am thank full for my talent and am loyal to using it. I will fight with whatever is left in me to achieve what I want to, never compare myself to any and to count all my blessings.

 Get your attitude right! Tap into your positive thoughts about your future and capitalize on it. It weird how panicking and thinking the worst when results are unknown. Why not give faith and imagination a fighting chance. Don’t escape your blessings by being negative.

Blessings will never escape you when you trust in a living God.

Bruce is Caitlyn now! Call me Phetogo.

Can anyone explain to me how they feel when they have been given a coat to wear in the cold when it’s not their size? Is comfort what you enjoy most because it’s the buffer against the cold has been provided? Is the discomfort so intense because of the wrong size? How do you measure the imbalance? Or is that not important because you wear this coat to protect you against the cold.

About a week ago I went out for a chill session with one of my ladies. And this is someone who takes great pride in expressing her roots and revisiting her cultures thought the most uncommon yet mattering mediums. I always find myself intimidated by her true sense of authenticity. Her being able to not just say: what makes her African, but the pride she carries in being a township African child. (being African has nothing to do with the shade of yours skin color) . Rhandzu is her name.

As an emerging fashion designer that wants to establish their own brand, it has been such a challenge to come up with something that signifies individuality, style and inspiration. These are three elements that strongly upholds the brand. I remember at some point in my live I had decided to call it Givado (Give-Ado..) which means to create a big fuss. I have been called Givado for many years and it stuck with me. It’s the coat that has been given to me to wear and I have become comfortable because its embraced. No one really knows how much I despise that name. I carries no essence. The sound of another pretty gay name that creeps me out., It carries overrated western/German elements. But it’s a name I’m known by. There is An African proverb that says “ A men should feel home with their own name only then will they confidently express their Identity”(Remember that I’m African I came up with that tacky line. hahaha) But that is how I feel when Im called Givado!

Then there is my birth name Gift, such a powerful name (for obvious reasons). I love the name but it’s not helping me in any way. Could it be because it’s English? People struggle to distinguish whether Gift is coloured or Black. Gift himself is in the process of finding his identity within Africa( a Setswana young men who cant speak a word of it).

Rhandzu and I taking a walk in Standford Valley

 My friend Rhandzu reminded me why the name Gift has no taboo in it, I love taboo, taboo is what all have and some fear to express. Gift is plain, becoming lame somehow. And I know I am not lame hahaha.

Wait a minute!!! I have been blessed with two very beautiful (so the Setwanas say),difficult to pronounce, trought-cleaning Setwana names. Phetogo, my second name(Change) and Kgakagamatso , my third name(Miraculous) . Why not Phetogo? My growth has been evident, both personally and in my career. More liberating things and activities has become important to me. I know I am repulsed listening to songs that requires

Cafe Majito in Cape Town after a long chat,dance and drinks.

me to bang my head like a rebellious American teen. I can’t stand all this new modern saves tendencies( African young people acting like tourist from MTV in South Africa). Oh well. My growth is really personal and it had disturbed for so many years that English and Afrikaans is all I speak, well and a little bit of Isixhosa(One has no choice but to learn that I Cape town).

I decided to make myself known as Phetogo. Bruce Jenner is now Caitlyn right? (He is just my favourite fab lady now) Phetogo means change, change brings growth right? The birth of something new? Different? Individualistic and inspired but the journey of finding my true self and my authentic African identity?

Rhandzu blessed my clothing label with this name, my name Phetogo. I love it an am very excited to launch an online clothing page.

Will read his again someday Rhandzz and go ‘oh well,thanks “

The journey to finding inspiration for my range(final year assignment)

Attending a wine launch in Khayaitcha 2014. Love this picture, I look like the greater part og me:Bushmen

The journey to Konceit Kulcha.

Individuality described as the freedom to express who one is through various mediums. The way you dress, speak and express yourself are the badges to individuality. That why this has become imperative to dig deep to who I am to express that through fashion.

The dimension of fashion evolves every single season. This explains why the majority emerging designers lack so much authenticity in their work, and that is primarily because of the need to remain current and conventional. Convention and trend is what sells. It is just as important for me to design garments that are unique and pays loyalty to my individuality. The journey is quite intellectual and profound. I wish to avoid submitting to styles that are western or what we would describe as “modern”. I wish not to dispute the work of great designers.  I am not detected from following the creativity of our designers. And with saying that one can still the foundation of all garments from different designers is still born in America and London. A question will be. Can Africa claim its duty back to be the first of its kind? Knowledge? Undiluted culture?

I have a desire to illustrate that in my silhouettes, patterns, fabric, styles and designs of my first clothing range (final year exam). But how can I achieve that if I haven’t seven discovered much of who I truly am. I bushmen ancestral blood flows in my veins, I a child of the Setwana tribe (Morolong). My late great-grand father I was told was a white South African who was farming in Botswana in the 1940s. Im a disgusting breed I jokily say. The thought of white Afrikaner blood flowing through my veins. The feeling alone brings a nod to my thought. I have a direct connection with first humanity, home of Africa.

Being proudly African, I find myself in my own space arguing that line. Gift, you can barely speak any African language? You admire the sounds of  Beyonce compared to that of your homeland? It saddens me that I have o “true’ element of being truly African, but what is being true African then? How can I say that I wish to portray the idea of Africa in my range, when my identity has been challenged by so many of my African brothers and sisters?

It still hurts to see how we as Africans, particularly black Africans sill fight for African pride and exercising true African identity and knowledge. I wish to become free from my own stupidity and idiocy about my individuality. Our identity has become what the white men has taught us to see. Our individuality seeks for validation from “likes” and terms such as “hip, dope,swagg” . We lose so much of ourselves every day and we forget that we are still slaves. It contributes so much to the uncomforting feeling of being in my own skin.

I believe that passion leads to greatness. I wish to use the journey to find inspiration to my range as a journey of self-discovery “My African Identity”.

Conceit Kulcha (pronounced culture) is a bold way of being very proud of who you are, your culture and being aggressively conceited about your culture. I want to be that. I wish to advocate individuality and originality through my passion, yes! Trough fashion.

My journey to be inspired for my range started two day ago.!!

Everybody seeks recognition and validation,my hope is that I and my work is recognized for it being truly from me.”- givado