Simply Philile

Dear Diary A few years ago, June 2009 to be precise, I sat inside my car nervously laughing at myself while speaking to my best friend on the phone. With each unforgiving giggle from her, I wanted to bang my head even harder on the steering wheel while praying that the ground swallows my car and all its contents at that very minute.  See it would have been better if I was parked outside my house or some other familiar and friendly territory like the local pub or something. But no! I was right outside what was to me once “the rival TV station”. I’d just updated my facebook status with two words – Patrice Lumumba. After impulsively quitting my job as News Anchor/Producer at SABC TV in May 2009, with no plan in place, I convinced myself I would travel around the world until such time that I needed to be back in the rat race again…when all the savings were gone.  A part of me though said I should keep looking out for vacancies in the media industry and so I reluctantly did.

Dear Diary I, Philile Masango, daughter of a farmer and umgcugcuteli (rural health motivator), live in truly interesting and exciting times. I have lived to experience firsthand what Charles Dickens meant when he said ‘it was the best of times; it was the worst of times’. As expected my previous blog narrating my life story and addressing the state of affairs in Swaziland has generated massive feedback, flak and dialogue, thanks to the Times of Swaziland newspaper for publishing my written thoughts albeit partially, and sensationalized. The feedback of sorts shows I’m on course with what I sought to do - which is, starting a conversation amongst ourselves as Swazis about our socio-political and economic situation and consequently spring us into taking action. In fact, for me, having a conversation is big enough action for a nation that is hardly participatory. Obviously, as I pointed out in my previous article, part of this new conversation was inevitably going to be laden

This past December I laughed so hard just seconds after my long-time girlfriend had hopped into the car. I’d picked her up for lunch on one gloomy overcast afternoon in the capital Mbabane. She’s always cracked me up.  This time I had irritably remarked, “I can’t wait to get back to Jo’burg, this weather sucks just like this pothole-riddled street I’m driving on”. My remark was met half-way by a sharp “Aw’seyekele wena ntfombi yakuMatsetsa…yimihlolo yetfu” (meaning “Oh please! A girl from Matsetsa now knows things suck?”).  That’s when I just burst into fits of laughter as she went on… “It’s the same with your facebook statuses, you are practically unhappy and critical about everything here, if it’s not the weather it’s the roads or the cabinet ministers or the Church, the police or the pubs…I mean what was that you wrote the other day ‘I've arrived in the (Swazi)land of Sex, Alcohol and Jesus. In that (dis)order thank you #KnowYourCountry’? What was that huh? Her story