“It’s Time”

I recall a musician brother telling a story about traveling downtown Johannesburg for a performance during the years of Apartheid in South Africa. If you understand what Apartheid racism was all about; that is, besides separating people according to skin color, you would also know with some good measure that their form of institutional racism was about excluding people from certain regions of the city or country, either permanently or during certain hours. They employed a system we collectively called “pass laws”; they imposed Gestapo style curfews and you needed a damn good reason to be downtown Johannesburg when night fell. One such reason could be that you were a musician.  And that alone was a mighty tough sell!  You could easily sink deep into doo-doo if one dumb white racist police officer bumped into you.

So, he recounted a time when they were walking home after a musical performance. Fair enough, they bumped into some terribly dumb white cops.  The police fellas naturally inquired what their purpose was in the inner city during those hours. They responded accordingly… They explained that they had just completed a set at some local joint. The officers decided to poke fun at the black musicians — which was routine — and so they asked them to put on an impromptu performance.  This form of intimidation was a daily arrangement.  The musicians then assembled themselves, went through their choreography and belted out a tune.  The song was called “It’s Time”, which lead to the next thing… After their little ‘money’s worth’, the cops proceeded with more thrill-seeking.  They asked the black fellas why the song was called “it’s time” and “time to do what” after all?  The poor brother said they honestly could not put together a quick answer right at that moment, so they stood there looking silly.  True enough, and quite characteristic of that time, black musicians performed abstract songs that were laced with code messages designed to insight insurrection against white oppression.  No doubt, this may have been one such a song.  And before they could blink, he recounted, one of the police officers happened to have his hand some black paint… Yep, the same black paint you would use to paint the walls of your home.  The cops splashed the paint cold over each one of the musicians.  …Shocking, right!  Yes, indeed!  So, why such dehumanizing humiliation?   Well, the white police poured the black musicians with black paint just so they could look more black than they already were!  And so the poor musicians walked home covered in black paint during the wee hours, just as the morning African sun was cracking.  It has got to be the funniest sad story ever told.

You see, white people of South Africa viewed black people no different from creatures in the wild.  Many still harbor such contempt toward black people and many still stay true to such dreadful bigotry.



“Here is a smooth love song that has deeply coded messages intended for Commander Nelson Mandela during the days of slavery. It was extremely dangerous to mention or transmit the name or images of Nelson Mandela in any manner during those days. But you should never doubt the genetic ingenuity of black people! We did convey messages covertly nonetheless… Right under the noses of the racists. The song is by Ray Chikapa Phiri & Stimela and it is titled ‘Zwakala’ which means “come here” or “come on over” in Tsotsitaal. Tsotsitaal is a lingua franca pidgin that was used, right before the ears & eyes of the white racists of South Africa, to overthrow their system of organized slavery. If you listen or watch the song with innocence, it seems like a charming, harmless love song. Be very careful! If you listen carefully you can hear some inaudible word interpolated soon after the word ‘Zwakala’. It is quite hard to discern what the word is even to a trained or native Zulu speaker because it sounds like “Ng’alena/o,” which literally means “over here” or “over there”. So, put together, “Zwakala ng’alena” would be, “Come over here,” or “Come to me,” as the song says. But according to Chikapa Phiri himself, he was actually saying “Zwakala Manelo,” with Manelo as a code for “Mandela”. Almost the entire black intellectual community of South Africa understood the message except, of course, the stupid secret service of the racist assholes. We must also note that there is another great artist, and a good friend of ours named Chicco, who sang a popular catchy tune with the same effects. The song was called “We Miss You Manelo”.”

“Fuck ‪#‎Communism‬! Black people are still slaves living in abject poverty in Cuba, Venezuela, Colombia & Brazil.”


Henrico Courts8x12



“Don’t forget that it was these monkey-faced hardened pick-pockets who killed an international superstar named Lucky Dube. They also killed a national treasure named Senzo. Recently, they want to down & dust-off a news reporter of the people. Just purge every law-less dickhead without question. Level them, delete them in broad day light & let the international news media film all they want while we clean up!”

“The image of government officials, up to the President of South Africa, enhances an environment of criminality. Round up every dickhead without mercy. Do it now!”

“The President should deploy the military {special forces} right downtown Johannesburg & declare martial law till every inch of the country is squeaky clean. If you don’t do it, we will!”

“The South African Police Service employs police men & women who collude with violent pick-pockets. Cock-suckers & dummies are damaging tourism & commerce of the country. They are reversing every painstaking effort of good citizens roaming the world trying to promote the country. Just noose till the last of them. Dig up the earth & fumigate all of them. We are going to clean up South Africa & we are going to clean up Africa right now!”

“We want our family from Argentina, France, America, India, Romania, Qatar, Korea, Brazil, Cuba & the entire world to walk freely in South Africa. There is no way citizens can be mortified of getting jumped by dumb asses at every stop sign as they drive downtown Johannesburg or Cape Town. No fuckin way we will be held under siege!”–speaker-fahari-sebastian


Ahmed Fouad Negm

“My profane writings were inspired by the great Egyptian poet Ahmed Fouad Negm.”

“I write in profane, vulgar, adulterated style because I rebelled against the clumsy hypocritical puritanism — as inspired by Lutheran Calvinism — I encountered in America.”

“I use extensive profanity because I am the eternal agitator who wants to portray life, in all it’s crudities, just as is. I remain organic.”

“I use profanity in my writings not for shock value or ‘the occasional anti-joke’ but because life is not as polite as your mama & papa want u to believe.”

“If you are properly educated, your purest form will be that of an objective mind. Educated people are remarkably dangerous agitators. Educated people should & must be the number one threat to any government.”

“The legendary, & greatest president of all, Kambarage Nyerere said he wanted people to be educated purely so they can challenge his rule.”

“I do not write to please anyone, to gain favor from friends or to promote my music. I write because society sent me to school so I can become an agitator.”

“I don’t know about u but the president will sleep in a very expensive comfortable bed tonight. A homeless guy will sleep behind a McDonalds.”

“So thank YOU very much for taking the time and, perhaps, laughing your fuckin’ ass off as you read along. Thank you very very much. There is no Fahari Sound if there is no YOU. Love you! Merci! :)”



Sufferah System Art Works



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.