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The Side I Take

In a perfect world, and according to Gospel Chilembo, all intelligent, thinking, reasoning, rational, and knowledgeable human beings ought to know that WAR IS WAR.

The sole purpose, role, function, and intention of war are to kill. Annihilate the enemy. As true as death is the ultimate outcome of living, the first most likely to go in all wars are the most vulnerable, the least protected, and yet some of the most innocent of beings: Children, mothers that are, mothers to be, the sick, the weak, the poor, animals. These days, even world travellers, sitting enclosed in aeroplanes, and, in that environment, seemingly as innocent and unknowing of the ways of the world as children in mothers’ wombs, get shot down like birds of game in the sky. That is the nature of war. Sick.

Round negotiation and bargaining tables, nobody dies. There are no children here, there are no weak and vulnerable here; there are no poor mothers that are, mothers to be. Those who die, if at all, round negotiation tables, are simply those who are unfit and unhealthy from before.

Nelson Mandela, PresidentRound negotiation tables, it is the firepower of brains that reigns. Rules are set, and are acknowledged and respected by all parties concerned: The aggrieved, the mediators, the moderators, as well as the facilitators. Sides shall give, and sides shall take to mutual satisfaction. Stalemates shall necessitate time-outs, reassessments, revaluations, including modifications of strategies and demands. Concessions shall be made till mutually satisfactory agreements and settlements are made. Reconciliation terms discussed, and agreed upon; sign mutually binding treaties. Shake hands, kiss and hug. Peace. Simple as that, surely. Easier said than done? Doable! Repeat process as long as necessary, sharpen all’s negotiation skills, respect and acknowledge one another’s reasons for demands, as well as raison d’être (history, resources, identity, faith religion), no matter how outlandish all this may seem to either aggrieved party.

Hear, acknowledge, and respect the voice of the global community. Worked in South Africa. Global institutions have been established to help unify mankind towards common goals of peace, development, and progress for all beings on earth. These institutions were established out of the humble realization that no single nation, no single human interest group on earth can tackle alone in an effective way the overwhelmingly huge challenges of survival, as well as propagation of the species on earth.

I conclude: Warmongers in/ of the world have no love for women and children. Women are women, and children are children anywhere in the world. In wars, both the aggressor and the oppressor use the same bullets, the same bombs, and the very same chemicals of mass destruction to kill innocent children and women. So, fuck wars! That’s the side I take. What say ye, God Almighty?

Recommended reading on alienation of war, breaking down the toughest of the tough, cream of the crop –  Sayed Kashua: Why I have to leave Israel.

Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
July 20, 2014




Simon Chilembo, Chief Executive President

©Simon Chilembo, 2014

We all have
Our own
Golden Ages
Enjoy it
While you last
Gold shall glitter
With or without you
Diamonds are forever
I’m here
I live
I love
Beauty everywhere
Let The Platinum Age begin

©Simon Chilembo, 16/ 07- 2014

Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
July 16, 2014


1-Year Anniversary: The Truth

Simon Chilembo, Pres/ CEO, Empire Chilembo ©Simon Chilembo, 2014

In search of myself, I came forward to the roots in the land of my birth exactly a year ago today. I’m here; I live, I love. I’m poor. My sanity is intact. Symbols of my profane world wealth are standing firm on solid ground. I have no choice but to rise and stand tall. My life is good. One discovered shocking truth about my life could have wrecked it all had it not been for the presence of the other truth.

It is true that I am a man much humbled by the truth that I have people around me, far and wide, who love and care much about me. In my darkest hours, when it rudely emerged that in my world in the land of my birth, sometimes what you see is not what you get, these people reached out (like they always do in my hours of darkness, as if they were Mother Mary) to light up my world, lightening my burdens till time dissipates them.

I want to express my deepest and most sincere gratitude to all those who have given me unconditional support, mentoring, coaching, counselling, advice, and guidance, as well as prayed for me, during this past year. A third truth in this regard is that your loyalty to, including your belief and faith in, me I could never thank you enough for. My Karate Kids of all ages all over the world, you make me want to sing, What Am I Living For? I don’t know what my Karate teacher sings, but his presence fuels my desire to want to sing. Always.

Land of my manhood calls, “Back to the roots, son!” I’ll be back …


Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
July 02, 2014




Simon Chilembo, Chief Executive President

If I wake up blown up dead tomorrow, be it known that in all of my dear life, standing on African humanistic thought and philosophical platform, anchored on contemporary Western philosophy democratic thought, and spiced with Christian values defining my personal relationship to God, I lived with profound respect for religion in all its forms and manifestations. I had to. It’s because, as a free man of the world and lover of all humanity, some of my best friends, sisters and brothers of all skin colours and tones of the spectrum, were from all corners of the world, and practiced all kinds of religions; worshiping and praising all kinds creatures, spirits, and gods in many different ways. Amen.

I am deeply fascinated by religion. Mankind, the most complex, the most inquisitive creature on earth, must have gotten so afraid of what they found out about themselves that they created God. God would be both a reason and scapegoat for mankind’s actions. So, it’s okay, people will kill other people, including their very own flesh and blood for God; this as prescribed by God in relevant religious scriptures. Simple. No responsibility for one’s own actions for mankind. All’s cool in the name of God. God must be an extremely busy being, with much blood in their hands. No wonder there is so much confusion in the world today. God has no time to rest.

I am convinced that the word, and concept of, mediation ceased to exist in God’s vocabulary eons ago. If you were God, how would you deal with the following situations?

  • Shouting, “GLORY BE TO GOD!” somebody blows themselves up with bombs strapped around their bodies, intently killing along many other non-suspecting people with them at the same time.
  • The deceased and the bereaved will cry to God, praying that God punishes the killer with eternal fire in hell.
  • Some will pray to God, asking for forgiveness for the killer.
  • Others will pray to God, leaving everything by way of judgement in the already much bloodied hands of God.
  • There will also be those who will pray to God, asking for guidance as they plan vengeance. When the time comes, they will also shout out even more fervently to the same God, “GLORY BE TO GOD! GLORY BE TO GOD! GLORY BE TO GOD!”

I have heard it so many times before, “Mine is a religion of peace. The question of love does not arise because how can peace exist without love? In fact, the name of my religion, translated into English, means Peace. Therefore, my religion is a religion of love of, for, and from God. It’s irrelevant to say whether or not I will love mankind. That’s all in the will of God”
However, a quick reality check on any day will show that the most ruthless and enduring civil wars in the world today are in parts of the world where the religion of peace is predominant. Moreover, many of those who profess the same religion of peace today spearhead some of the most horrendous murderous social instabilities in many parts of the world.
Retort, “But, no, you don’t understand, my friend! Those people are NOT real believers of my religion. God (Blessed be His name!) will punish them severely. There is nowhere in our scriptures where God (Blessed be His name!) condones violence and murder of innocent people under any circumstance …”
Yet, these cold-hearted killers cite from the very same scriptures to further their own causes, and they shout and yell “GLORY BE TO GOD!” to the same God of the concerned religion. Or, does the one religion have several gods with the same revered name? Retort, “No, no, no, no, my friend, there can only be ONE God (Blessed be His name!)! These horrible, evil people have not read and understood our holy scriptures properly. God’s (Blessed be His name!) word is so powerful small minds can never understand it”
There we go!

If God were a CEO, and religion a modern corporate entity, they would both have gone under a long time ago, saving mankind a lot of trouble. But then again, much like opium, religion is big business. If at all they don’t run on opium themselves, religious fanatics are as bad as the addicted. God, in this case, may be likened to a drug baron, then.

In my eyes, as an all-encompassing brand, God of the religion of peace’s image is not done any good service at all by the fanatics currently spreading waves of terror all over the world in His name. I wonder if He ever cares at all? Eternal glory be to Him? So long as rivers of blood continue to flow, I reckon. Amen.


Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
June 20, 2014




In the beginning there was Muntu, person. Just a person, a thing. Muntu became woman, became man; got a name, identity. Muntu became u-Muntu thereby. Somebody. A unique individual.

©Simon Chilembo, 2014

©Simon Chilembo, 2014

U-Muntu became hungry, and began to need and crave for things to stay alive, as part of being a living entity. Some things u-Muntu could do alone and privately; others needed cooperation with other u-Muntus (read a-Bantu) in order to improve effectiveness and efficiency. Such arose roles and functions with rising complexity in how u-Muntu organized and structured co-existence with other a-Bantu, forming communities, society. Furthermore, to ensure sustenance and perpetuation of communities, which, with generations, would grow to nations as we know them today, u-Muntu devised the whats, the hows, the whens, and the whys of things. Thus arose geographical region specific rules, laws, customs, traditions, and cultures to ensure some degree of order and coherence in society.

In a perfect world, communities thrive on the common and mutual assumption that each and every unique u-Muntu understands that they exist and thrive in life due to the existence of other a-Bantu who are there for them in various roles and functions. Therefore, u-Muntu receives so that they can give at some point as time goes; u-Muntu shall be served now so that they can serve others later as, and when, need arises.

Buntu is a state, a condition, of being u-Muntu. Passive. On the other hand, U-Muntu is by definition action oriented. As an active community/ society member, u-Muntu will reflect certain unique qualities and deeds that set them apart, and may, or may not be, valuable to other a-Bantu. These qualities and deeds of u-Muntu highlight their u-Buntu. Therefore, u-Buntu is the dynamic nature of u-Muntu in their mutual from-birth-to-death interaction with others/ a-Bantu in society.

U-Buntu defines the dual dependency of u-Muntu and a-Bantu on one another other. This is summed up in the famous South African saying: UMUNTU NGU MUNTU NGA BANTU.

In its purest form, uBuntu is supposed to inspire but the very best in the individual’s relationship to/ with others at both the micro and macro levels. UBuntu is supposed to inspire virtue, reminding us to love and value life because, the reality is, we do not own life. We come to life to fill only a certain slot for only a certain predetermined time on earth. Our duty, obligation, and responsibility are to contribute in each our own small ways to making this life and world a better journey and place for all, in our times and beyond.

Confusion arises, therefore, when today uBuntu is a business brand name ranging from computer operating systems, soft drinks, to special interests groups and organizations. Capitalism has raped us of the very last philosophical postulate for our raison d’être in South Africa.

How shall we work further with, for example, reconciliation in our country when now UMUNTU NGUMUNTU NGO KOMPUTA?


Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
June 18, 2014





Responding to Norwegian Aftenposten newspaper article:

Simon Chilembo, Chief Executive President

Simon Chilembo, Chief Executive President

My aunt ‘Mabatho/ Mother of The People, if, on a good day, you were to call on her unannounced in the morning, you’d find her shabbily dressed in a tattered nightdress. Her eyes will be red; face as radiant as sunset orange in the Free State veld, though. She will give you this warm hug, kiss you reassuringly on the forehead, saying softly, “Ngwanake/ My child, they were here again. Ohhh, I am so tired …”

From time to time, our family ancestral spirits visit my aunt. She says they are ever so angry and bitter at the world. They want to burn the world down for the evil on it, the evil that destroyed my aunt’s life forever. She will fight with them all night, preventing them from unleashing their wrath out on the world.

In retrospect, my aunt says her own anger and bitterness towards those who grossly abused her is not so much in their abhorrent acts, but in that they did not kill her in the process. When you are dead and gone, you don’t hear, you don’t see, you don’t feel; when you are dead, you live above morons.

In a botched (White) farm robbery in the Free State in the 1970s, my aunt, then working as a domestic maid on the farm, was severely beaten up and successively raped by 6 men, 2 Whites, and 4 Blacks. When it was understood that the police were on the way, the two Whites turned against their Black colleagues, and shot them dead on the spot. The former denied abusing my aunt, claiming that they had in fact come to defend the farm as they had earlier on received a tip-off about the impending robbery. “How can decent, God fearing boerefolk have sex with a dirty kaffir woman? We beat her up a bit to teach her a lesson never to collaborate with other kaffir criminals who come to rob our farms. We had to execute these four criminals here because their original intention was to come and kill the people of the farm. Self-defence, you see?” they said to the police. My aunt was arrested, and served 3 years in jail. It’s said the two Whites went to war in Rhodesia, and never came back.

My aunt’s ordeal was too much to bear for her husband. One day, the man decided to hug a goods train moving towards him at high speed. Pieces of his body were picked up and placed in a plastic bag as if it was meat to be fed to crocodiles.

Despite the way-out traumas in her life, without any professional help forthcoming, my aunt went on to raise her three children to decent adulthood. She makes a living of some sorts selling umqumbothi, as well as some special traditional tobacco.

This true story will make most sense, and will be familiar, to those who have felt in their flesh and bones, Apartheid in the pre-1994 South Africa, as well as other forms of institutionalized forms of racism against Black people anywhere else in the world.

When Black/ African people yell, weep and cry, laugh, sing and dance demanding recognition and respect for their feelings, as well as their sense of integrity and honour, we are doing this in the face of real injustices that have been perpetrated on and against, and upon, us for generations. It is basely moronic for some arrogant and apparently incompetently incompetent White intellectuals, academics, philosophers, and artists to want to define for us Black people how to respond to all forms of racism directed towards us, both as a global collective, and/ or as individuals wherever we may be in the world at any one time.

Africans riding on the victim role card? My foot! I, WE Black people, demand to be allowed to deal with the consequences of the historical and current racist injustices upon our own beings on our own terms. No outsider has the power, neither the right, to decide or force the healing, or lack of it, in my soul, our souls.

So, you want to joke about my skin colour? That as either an overt, subtle, or both, way and tool to reinforce, feed and sustain the stereotyping that, among others, because I am Black and African I am, and/ or shall be, intellectually and culturally inferior to White, Yellow, Green, Purple, Maroon, and other colours of the spectrum people? Your foot, then! Dignity knows no skin colour.


On Clowns and Covert Racism

Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
June 08, 2014




POST 5th GENERAL ELECTIONS QUESTION: Are poor people of South Africa a bunch of fools without any aspirations for upward mobility in society? Are they just sitting there all their days in their miserable (charming, exotic, to some) townships and villages waiting for, and thriving on, handouts from the government and other benefactors? If so, then, South Africa is in deep trouble.

If things ever fall apart in South Africa, with a collapse of democracy and rise in despotism, it will be as a result of, among others, the existence of this unnatural parasitic class of poor people, as well as greedy and myopic rich people in both the ruling and economic elite classes.

Poor people are useful, easy to dupe and manipulate, only to the extent that they remain poor, by choice or through deceit, same difference.


Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
May 19, 2014




General Elections 2014

Putting the record straight once again: I am very happy with who and what I am. I would be as nasty to my people about their weirdness and things had I been yellow, pink, white, or magenta. It wouldn’t matter whether I was born in Nogonakarabash (don’t know where or what that is), Uoagadougou, North South Dakota, or Ås. Trash is trash anywhere. My background includes being an ANC child to the core.

Predator Boss

Sub-Saharan Africa is a great place to be. All predators know this. With very little or no effort at all, there will always be something, or someone to eat. Nature has, on the whole, been very kind and generous to this strange part of the world. Abundance everywhere. Occasionally, nature gets weary too. Rain stops falling for a while. Predators die, never ever having bothered to learn (how) to adjust and/ or adapt to ever changing and challenging conditions. For a Sub-Saharan Africa predator, the nature of life is easy-come-easy-go, all according to God’s design and plans, as facilitated by the ancestral spirits. If God delays, eat the nearest weakest beast, including your own kind.

When there’s nothing and no one else left to eat, and God does not seem to want to deliver yet, the predator will find outrageous explanations and scapegoats, ranging from witchcraft to misfortune. Even when they beg, predators will just sit and wait for the benefactor to come forth with the food and water packages. Predators are children of God. They are entitled to be served and protected by others. Just like God will forever provide them with the rain for free, to the extent that he is in a good mood. Jesus became an overnight hit in Sub-Saharan Africa from the promise of free loaves of bread, fish, and litres of wine to multitudes.

South Africa, the barely 20 year-old golden child of Sub-Saharan Africa, does have a story to tell. For a country so young as an overt democracy player, South Africa does have a good story to tell: A huge, an awesomely good story, a comprehensive story with many inter-twined sub-stories in it. South Africa is as if cut out for storytelling. There are sources of inspiration everywhere, every day. Any oratory or literary genre is possible.

The colourful political landscape that has unfolded as we head for the 5th General Elections in just 2 days, Wednesday, May 07, 2014, says a lot about the beautiful and sweet story of democracy South Africa has to tell. Much like God, South African democracy does have it’s moods and failings, but where and when it works, it works. Because of the existence, and practice, of fundamental democratic principles, based on values forming the cornerstone of respect for, and acknowledgement of, Human Rights and dignity, South Africa provides relatively ample space for all to thrive within its borders; from the good, the bad, the ugly, and the predator from here at home or abroad, be it Sub-Saharan Africa, or anywhere in the world.

The worst person to get assistance from, or give assistance to, is an African. Getting assistance from an African enslaves the recipient. Giving an African assistance aggrandizes the giver. If you want to be God in Africa, give once, give twice, give thrice, give and give endlessly. The more you give, the more Africans will sustain your power. Give just a little at a time, and get back at least hundredfold. Predators need only what they can eat and drink if and when they are hungry, that’s all. God will always make rain fall. In the meantime, sleep, wake up, make love, sleep again, and wake up again when hungry. Free food is just a stone’s throw away. That’s how colonization of Africa was a piece of cake for the hard-baked Europeans to whom God and nature have never been so kind. That’s how Africa could become despots’ paradise. If you want to be free, never seek, and receive help from, an African.

As if the South Africans who escaped to, and got exiled in Africa were in Exodus magnitudes, millions of people have in the past 20 years flocked into South Africa in pursuit of greener pastures, if not running away from despotic leaders and/or wars in their own countries. They claim, and demand, that South Africa is obliged to reciprocate the help their countries of origin afforded South African refugees during the anti-apartheid liberation struggle days. No beef.

Measured against their expectations and perceived entitlements ands rights, as well as their God-given right to demand South Africa return the favour, the country has done many things wrong in the handling and treatment of the refugees from African countries. What with the wave of xenophobic attacks in major South African cities in recent years! The South African state, Civil Society, as well as ordinary South African citizens are ever indebted to African states for the help we received during the freedom struggle days. But, I think, the predator mentality the country is burdened with is just too much to deal with effectively, bearing in mind the already overwhelming pressure it has to get right it’s own colossal challenge of fixing the apartheid-devastated society. Moreover, the young and inexperienced South African state machinery and people have/ had no previous experience of dealing with a free-flow of people in need of safety and protection in such large numbers, at such a rapid rate; all these with different special needs and priorities, ranging from the religious to cultural practices.

And then South Africa is expected, as bound by international co-operation and diplomatic treaties and protocols, to contribute to efforts at ending wars and establishing peace in war-torn African countries. Here also, South Africa makes tragic and fatal blunders. Many ridicule the country, forgetting that despite its overwhelmingly well-equipped military establishment, the country doesn’t know poo about hardcore (civil) wars. And, besides, the relatively isolated guerrilla warfare skirmishes the liberation movements had in South Africa itself, Zimbabwe, and pre-independence Mozambique and Angola, were against clearly defined and distinct enemies of European origin.

In African countries civil wars, people are genociding their own people – their own children, their own women, and their own weak and vulnerable. South Africans can never do any good job here. We’ll keep sending our finest warriors to be “… sliced like a hot knife through butter” (Stephen Chan) in these places that have turned Africa into a living hell on earth, many of these incomprehensible wars having been going on long before the new South Africa was born in 1994.

In my view, it is clear that the international community, through the United Nations, as well as other related and relevant organizations, still have to find a working and workable formula for effectively managing and ending civil wars. International peacekeeping missions/ forces are a historical farce everywhere. Even Super Power Nations of the world using raw might and brut force have failed, and continue to fail, to stop countrymen determined to annihilate one another once the wars have escalated to a certain level. South Africa can only provide, to the extent it’s possible, affordable, and manageable, safety and protection for African and other refugees; but the country can, and will never fight and/ fix the civil wars and self-induced miseries in the refugees’ countries of origin. How come people don’t seem to want to learn from the South African model for civil war avoidance, prevention, and management in Africa and elsewhere? Is it, perhaps, because the Boss Predator, King Lion, will instinctively eat own baby lions to ensure his own continued survival and dominance of the pack? Come on, give South Africa a break, people!

For me, the huge, awesomely good story of South Africa, the barely 20 year-old golden child of Sub-Saharan Africa, is essentially a song of democracy. It is a song of a continual pursuance of, and adherence to, democratic principles of societal engineering and management. I measure a country’s democracy in both theory and practice in the extent to which, among other things, it’s justice system accommodates even the worst scum of the earth. South Africa is a gangster’s paradise. Every seasoned international gangster knows. It’s all in the media everyday.

In South Africa, criminals get caught and arrested by a legally instituted and regulated Police Force. The suspects will be given as humane and as decent treatment as the situation dictates and permits. Should the police screw up, they will also face the justice system’s music. The Police are not above the law in South Africa. The suspects will eventually be brought to court in order to be tested as to whether they are guilty or not. Necessary legal representation is a democratic prerogative to protect the accused’s constitutional rights as promulgated in the law of the land. If found guilty, the accused will be given an appropriate sentence, according to the law of the land. The accused has the right to appeal if they do not agree with the conclusions of the court. In South Africa, nobody gets their hands or tongues cut off, nobody gets stoned to death, nobody faces a firing squad, nobody gets hanged for committing a crime.

Sure, the South African Police may be corrupt and inefficient; cold-bloodedly shooting to death ill-informed and superstitious men carrying sticks for weapons to attack armoured policemen armed with modern automatic assault weapons. But, criminals breaking the law in South Africa will be caught at some point, as a rule. Smart, resourceful, and powerful local and international criminals and gangsters will/ may use their enormous wealth and other resources in attempts to bulldoze their way through the legal system, buying time, and hoping to confuse court officials, but if found guilty, they go down just like everyone else in the face of the law of the land. In South Africa, the legal system kills nobody; it only gives the criminals all the ropes they need to hang themselves as they go to extreme lengths attempting to manipulate the system to their own advantage. They can cry, throw tantrums, remain silent and arrogant, they will all have their field days in courts of law in South Africa. But if guilty, they can’t get away.

There will never be a civil war outbreak in South Africa. This is an emphatic statement I make with confidence, assuming continued nurturing and sustenance of Democracy in the country. Democracy allows everyone to thrive, from people with so-called alternative lifestyles to extremists of all kinds, including some thickheaded White people in South Africa still clinging hard onto to old-fashioned racial superiority complex ideals. These hold onto the hope, as democracy allows them, that the country will one day return to conditions similar to apartheid days, with white privilege and power reigning supreme over Black people. Keep on dreaming, people; it’s your democratic right. White people will never be thrown out to sea. Change and transformation of South African society can and will only be effected through the ballot box as long as Democracy prevails. Simple. Looked at as a collective entity, South African society is non-predatory. In predatory societies, life is a one-dimensional journey: You live, you eat, you are eaten, you die to go and burn in hell until eternity comes. Heaven is not for blood-soiled predator hands. Finish and klaar.

Some of the most progressive societies in the world, contributing in many ways to continual human progress and development through scientific Research & Development and innovation, including philosophical and political thought, have little or no predatory tendencies. Here, life is not a straight, finite line journey. Here, life comes and goes round in circles: What goes round comes around! You live, you eat selectively, you die, you pay the price, you come back, you rejoice or repent, you live again (self-reinvention), you eat anew, you die, … Its called Karma, reincarnation, or resurrection. These remind us that there are consequences to all our actions.

Jesus dies and rises again on the third day every year, and yet predator African countries proclaiming to be God-fearing, Christian nations fail to connect this phenomenon to the futility of one-track minded preoccupation with civil wars propagation, as well as direct oppression of their own people. So, in democratic South Africa, we will never consider civil war as an option for solving our big societal challenges and issues. South Africans are far too magnanimous to want to burn alive this beautiful golden country of ours. In South Africa, we can talk, we can write, we can sing till we find workable solutions to our vast challenges. What a wonderful story to tell! We can’t win them all, of course; we do have our own individual predators. After all, we are only human also.

South Africa knows that for every bullet shot, every explosion made in an African civil war, Africa goes deeper and deeper into the claws and fangs of neo-colonialism. Africa is so deeply entrenched in this mess that genuine collective African freedom and emancipation of African people from the clutches of global capitalist exploitation is but a utopia beyond the stars of the darkest African night. Africa is doomed to perpetual poverty, misery, and dependency. Fact. If only somebody could find a way to remove the predator animal instinct from the African psyche!

But then again, with predator animal instinct gone from the African psyche, bringing a brutal end to civil wars and all, there will be a total collapse of a huge and most lucrative war industrial and capital industries machinery. The war industry provides jobs and supports livelihoods of hundreds of thousands of people across the world. Beneficiaries outside the industry include peacekeepers and mediators of all sorts, NGOs, academics and researchers of all sorts, as well as the medical and health industry with all its branches. So, who will really want to have a peaceful Africa? It’s a real shame that predator Africa does not see this.

I have shown that South Africa is a useless peacekeeping player in civil war torn Africa. But then again, civil wars across the world simply take away the lives of many of “these strange and ignorant young men and whores who think they can come from their stupid imperialist countries and make decisions for us in our own country. Embarrassing us in front of our wives and children, not in the least our God and religion”. Also, South Africa is definitely civil war shy, all with good reason. The best place to see the effective brutality of South Africans towards one another, as well as their own, is in the mass media and cultural spheres. No one is spared here, with the democratic justice system of the land ever there for those who feel offended and, therefore, seek recourse. Who knows this better than the sitting South African president? In South Africa, people don’t just disappear, or die, mysteriously simply because they have offended and/ or ridiculed the head of state. He wins, he wins. He loses, he loses. Reconciliation, or agree to disagree, and move on. No assassinations. Otherwise, where would the peoples’ beloved Zapiro and Trevor Noah be? What a great story to tell!

Vote ANC 2014

Vote ANC 2014: 2 ballot papers! 1 provincial, + 1 national; Premier Ace Magashule, Free State ©Simon Chilembo, 2014

The ANC goes into the General Elections 2014 tilting like a slowly sinking ship. Reminds me of one of the legends around the Titanic told by one of my professors at university many years ago: As it had become clear that the ship was indeed beyond rescue, and so evacuation was indeed an absolute imperative, a group of super wealthy old men sitting around a table playing cards arrogantly dismissed all efforts to get them to respect the Captain’s evacuation orders and unconditionally act accordingly. To them, a mighty ship like the Titanic could never sink, even if Jesus came around. Nobody knows what happened to these thickheaded men of power in the end. Nobody cared.

I fear for predator mentality tendencies in certain quarters in the ANC. But the battering we are going to get in these elections will be a wakeup call, I hope. The ANC will (have to) reorganize, revitalize, renew, and remodel itself in order to effectively adapt to, and regain lost territory in the new political landscape that’s even likely to be more colourful, and more diverse in the coming years. The ANC will change, adapt, and win without spilling any blood through sanctioned violence against other prominent opposition players in the new, more dynamic political landscape giving the party a real run for their money. No other party will sanction any orchestrated violence to force their own agenda on the people, or eliminate others in the opposition. What a grand story of democracy unfolding everyday in South Africa!

I wish the country, and all contesting parties, a good, happy, and peaceful Election 2014. May the ANC come out this a more humble, but much stronger and more focused party of the people, for the people, by the people.


Bank Account Number is: 1057893056
Branch Code: 11343500, Nedbank


Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
May 05, 2014








Hold head high. Play Love & Compassion Sharing Games®

When life gives you the hardest knock at any level, at any stage, and you survive, your needs and wants are reduced to the most basic in order to live from day to day. Other than the most obvious, food, water, and shelter, when life has punished us real bad, we don’t need much more than love, compassion, and understanding from those around us. Above all, what we all want is to maintain our self-esteem. It’s an inherent feature of being a dignified human being to be able to perform the most elementary functions for one self as, and when, one wants, or needs to.

Working with the elderly, the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable at the Bronville Old People’s Home, Welkom, has helped me hold my head above water as I continually work at making sense of the disillusionment that I have had to endure from coming back home after 38 years in exile. The best, and only thing I could give without feeling any further sense of loss or sacrifice, has been my Love & Compassion Sharing Games® with these people. All cheap stuff, human touch so cheap I give it for free. Yet, the returns are priceless. How does anyone place value on love, peace, and happiness? What’s the value of regained, and sustainable sense of self-worth after, or during, a long illness; or after a serious accident, an acute misfortune? How much must it cost to stay fundamentally healthy and well, regardless of one’s station or/ or circumstances in life?

Being a non-modest Capitalist, and having lived in the midst of great riches and opulence all my 38 exile years, I really have no issues with the smart, strong, and resourceful flaunting their own wealth, vulgar or not as it may be. This, to the extent that it’s symbolic of clean, hard-earned money. Having rubbed shoulders, as well as drank tea, coffee, and wine; and having broken bread with the wealthiest of the wealthy in my time, I will acknowledge and admire many manifestations of genuine affluence. But, that’s as far as it goes. I am never left in total awe. Been there, done that, see? Small time rich people in small towns never impress or excite me.

Problems arise when the symbols of great wealth being flaunted are such that their acquisition is questionable, especially so with regard to those in influential positions and roles in societal governance and leadership. When this happens, I measure the negativity against the loss civil society incurs with respect to potential life supporting and uplifting services that can be provided to the most vulnerable and weakest in society. For example, for ZAR 250 million, I can teach and train an awesome force of 62 000 HoPE•With•Compassion•Warriors®,with the main objective of going out to simply touch, and play with the elderly, the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable in the country. I leave the overall long-term potential benefits, as well as Social Economic Investment gains, to the imagination. Thinking with a global vision, I can see us contributing to World Peace development efforts with these our HoPE•With•Compassion•Warriors®: Simple, humane, cost effective, and environment friendly.

In the meantime, I am stone broke in the real world of water, electricity, phone, security,  etc. bills. I have never felt this hopelessly poor since I was an exile schoolboy at Kamwala Secondary School, Lusaka, Zambia, in 1977-81. But my Dear Father, Mother, and Uncle Oliver Chilembo (a Legend In His Own Time) were always there. It was then a different kind of personal cashlessness state, though, because I had never tasted having a million bucks in my name before. Like somebody has said somewhere before, “Poverty stinks!” I hate poverty with passion.

As it is shown on the video below, there is, by default, no tenderpreneurship gravy train rolling stock off the backs of the elderly, the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable. There is no gold, there is no platinum; neither are there diamonds on the soles of their feet. I am, therefore, humbly asking for cash donations (any amount affordable) to keep me going till I return to exile in a few months’ time. My past savings are gone, and I Ain’t Misbehaving, (I’m just) all by myself. My
Bank Account Number is: 1057893056
Branch Code:11343500, Nedbank

This is also an opportunity for those who owe me money from before to settle their debts. I’ll most grateful.

In my exile homeland, there is black gold; there is Omega 3 everywhere. Just touch the right backs, the right feet, and you are in 21st Century Canaan, land of flowing milk and honey. Been there, done that. I’ll be back!

Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel.: +27 717 454 115
April 29, 2014



Love In Exile/ Women of Exile

Exile land women in love with men in exile get less recognition, acknowledgement, and respect than they deserve.

Were I a woman, I would never ever fall in love with an exile man in my land. Exile men are nothing but a load of trouble.

However, my South African mother did fall in love, and eventually got hitched to an exile man from far off Northern Rhodesia. Now, look what we got! Americans got Obama.

Simon Chilembo, President/ CEOChildren of men in exile land, we are everywhere; we rule, we get trampled upon, we are everything. Our mothers, well, often the most beautiful of local girls and women, can in many cases live all their lives on the fringes of social acceptance and respect. The jealousy and awe I’ve seen my mother endure everywhere we’ve been as a family boggles my mind to this day. You want to tread the softest spot of a man in exile, question his love and devotion to his mother and siblings.

Our exile fathers, well, they are ever so unpredictable: They can stay, they can be here but not here at the same time, they can return to their homelands, they can just disappear and vanish as if into thin air. They can die: Illness, accident, suicide, witchcraft, or assassination. Men-in-exile-fathers are a load of trouble, they are survivors, each in their own ways given each their own backgrounds where they come from. Many are good fathers; we love and adore them, give and show them life-long admiration and loyalty. But girlfriends, lovers, and wives in exile land can often fight uphill battles all their lives trying to get under the skins of these strange men in exile.

There is a certain irresistible charm about foreign men, though. Everything about them is ever so very different. The mystic about them is ever so enchanting. Mmm, the romance of a South African freedom fighter exile man! Wow! The strength and character of Nelson Mandela serving lifetime imprisonment in Robben Island would, nevertheless, probably have made me want to check out these South African exile men in my country, were I a woman. They must be all strong and tough men, these. What with the atrocities we’ve read about from the South African anti-apartheid movement! The thrill to want to get the feel of what it’s like to get laid by a macho freedom fighter trained by Che Guevara’s men in Cuba would probably have overwhelmed me, I reckon. Rumours had it some of these men in exile had actually been into, and survived, real big wars in Vietnam, Angola, and Afghanistan as trainees of the Russians. Ohhh, I must have them all, I probably would have thought were I a woman in exile land, because locals are ever so boring and predictable. Drunks.

These African guys, do they really have horse-dick-size penises? Is it really true that they go at it all night long? Ouch, heaven! Do their skins really taste chocolate? Do they have curly hair carpets their bodies over? Can they really kiss? You know, like normal people do in my exile host land? Do they really cry, do they really pray to their Gods and ancestors, do they really play drums while at it? Do they really do it like you see them dance on TV and at Cosmopolite concert hall in Oslo? I sure would want to sex them all. But certainly no, no, no talk of long term relationships, romance things, and babies. Absolutely no wife-husband stuff. Just bang, bang; ferdig med det/ over with it. No, don’t bother to call. Never come to my place. Sorry, mate, this wasn’t about love.

Men in exile are nothing but a load of trouble as lovers, husbands, and fathers; especially those who love their stupid lands of origin, and are crazy over their own mothers and siblings.

Exile land woman in love 1: But, darling, you are being very unreasonable, you know. How can you expect me to investin you wholeheartedly when one of the first things you said to me the very first day we met was that you were in Norway only temporarily? You made it clear to me that you were not interested in staying in Norway all your life, and you would return to South Africa at the earliest opportunity. I don’t think it’s wise to say such things to a Norwegian girl you fancy.
Exile man in love 1: Dumbfounded, and thinking to himself – This woman is real crazy. Doesn’t she understand that I’ll take her to South Africa with me? She is my woman, yes? Where I come from men take their women with them wherever they go. That’s what men do! She doesn’t know that my mother will treat her like a Princess.
Exile land woman in love 1: Please, darling, you are here, we are here now. You have established a strong network for yourself here; you are smart, and now you have a good job. Make Norway your permanent home, please. I would like to have many children with you, but my children will be born in Norway. You know very well that Norway is the best country in the world to have children in.
Exile man in love 1: Dumbfounded, and thinking to himself again – No children, in that case. My mother must see her grandchildren being born and delivered in South Africa, land of their ancestors. That’s just the way it is. 

Exile man in love 2: Extremely angry. Verbally brutalizing his wonderful exile land wifeNow, let me tell you, you slut of a woman; you are all sluts in this uncultured, Western Civilization Christian capitalist country of yours worshipping money above God (May his name …). To the extent that you don’t want to convert to my religion, you don’t want my children to practice my religion, and your uncultured family does not recognize my religion, you are all dirty bastards. Dirtier than the dirtiest of pigs! Get out of my house! Get out of my sight; you disgust me!

  • The thing about Exile man in love 2 is, to begin with, he found his exile land woman in love in the house he is throwing her out of! Secondly, he comes from one of those most tragic regions of the world where people are fighting endless, obnoxiously brutal wars over territories that only exist in their own fantasies. These special territories don’t even appear anywhere on the official world map. So, in practice, this man had no original homeland in the same way you’d talk about my beloved South Africa. But in his head, he did, indeed, have a home to return to when freedom finally comes along. 20 years later, war is still raging on in his fantasy homeland. As things normally go in wars, thousands upon thousands of poor people, women, and children have been mercilessly murdered over the years; and more are still dying on a daily basis. Our Exile man in love 2 got divorced a little over ten years ago. It had to happen. The racial and religious arrogance, as well as abuse of our Exile land woman in love 2 was subjected to regularly over several years used to stupefy me beyond words. The last time I saw the Exile man in love 2, he was unemployed, and had no fixed abode. He was still dreaming of returning to his homeland, since indications were that freedom was not too far way then. But, the reality is that there is hardly any life, anything worth living for there. The whole region is in ruins. There is no form of government, no civil order. It’s all hunger, poverty, and misery. Hell on earth. Literally.
  • How do you tell a man in exile to forget the unfinished stories and dreams form the pre-exile days in his original homeland? How do you tell him to make amends, show humility and respect for his new exile homeland? How do you tell him that it’s perhaps best to remain in exile land and enjoy watching his children contributing to the remodelling and continuing modernization of their motherland? Men in exile are nothing but a load of trouble.

Comrade-Brother-in-exile:  You know, if I were you, I would marry my exile land woman in love. I would give her many children as you tell me she wants to have them. I would stay in Norway and forget about home. You are a grown up man now, and, by right, you are supposed to live your life away from your home, away from your parents. Even the Bible says a man shall leave his father and mother when grown up. Fortunately you came here on your own, and you don’t owe allegiance to any liberation movement. So, nobody will miss you, actually. You have a free opportunity to start a new and great life for yourself, with your own new family in Norway. You are intelligent, you are strong, you are a leader; having a good life in Norway can never be a problem for you. You must remember that the eventually free South Africa we all hope to return to alive will never be the same one we left so many years ago. Everything, and everybody, will have changed. We are going to be strangers in our own motherland whenever the time comes for us to return there. But you, who are a free man with no binding organizational or institutional ties and obligations, can be wise and stay here. You already have laid a good and solid foundation for yourself. Look, man, think pragmatically like a man. Get emotions out of this!
Exile man in love 1: I hear you, Com. But let me tell you one thing as abundantly clear as I can, if I do ever get to decide to stay in Norway for good, it will be on my own terms; not because of some exile land woman in love and her children of mine. Of course, Norway has been very good to me, and for that I’m ever so very grateful. But there is something constantly dragging me back to South Africa …

I called that something constantly dragging me back to South Africa a deep-felt, painful longing for the motherland. I finally gave in to the dragging, came back home, and found a void. It’s harder to feel a stranger in my own land than living alone in exile. It’s not in his nature, he is far too wise and sophisticated, but I can hear Comrade-Brother-in-exile say, “I don’t want to say I told you so!

Furious, drunk exile woman colleague at a job teambuilding event out of town: You, Simon, are the most bigheaded, and the most arrogant man I have ever met. For a Black man you have really shocked me for being so hard on us. We may be blue in the eyes, stupid, and naïve; but we are women in the end, you know. Bloody hell man, there is no way you gonna get laid tonight. We can’t stand over-confident foreign men like you. Act a little stupid and ignorant, and you can get all the pussy you want, ma-a-an!

Aspiring woman in love in South Africa, frustrated: It’s hard for me to understand that a fine man like you, Simon, can be 50 plus and never been married, and have no children. Are you sure you are a man? Ok, I know you are. But no wife, no children? How come? You must be a coward, afraid of responsibility, you must be. Or you are just interested in enjoying the good life of overseas alone, not caring about your people back in South Africa, who want to have daughters-in-law and grandchildren. Ah, I know, you are so selfish because you think you are White now, coconut. Iyooo, South African women don’t like men like you, you know. And you say you are not into paying lobolas/ bride prices and all should you get an SA woman who wants to marry you? Then forget it, Bro! Denying your own culture? You are a real coconut now. Go back to overseas! O tla shoa o le lefetoa/ You will die as one not capable of being married.

Exile land woman in love 1: Do you have to play all this R&B music all the time in my house?
Exile man in love 1:  I am a Black man, Darling. Remember?
Exile land woman in love 1: R&Bmusic is shit. It has no soul.
Exile man in love 1:  You have just insulted millions of Black people across the world, Darling!
Exile land woman in love 1: Rubbish!Listen to Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, … Now, that’s music!

Exile land woman in love 1: You have to go now?
Exile man in love 1: Huh? Go? Where to?
Exile land woman in love 1: Your place.
Exile man in love 1:  But it’s past midnight. And it’s cold outside (sub zero degrees temperatures, winter).
Exile land woman in love 1: Just go!
Exile man in love 1: But, Darling, we’ve just made love. Have I done something wrong?
Exile land woman in love 1: No, the sex was good as ever. I just want to be alone in my own space. Just go, please!

Frustrated-Exile-Men-In-Love Club

  1. She complains that I work too much. She says I’m too obsessed with money. She refuses to understand me when I say I do all this for her. I want us to have a good and financially secure life. She says we don’t need all that in Norway, the State takes care of us when we are in need. Well, I look after my family first; the State can come in after. I am a man.
  2. She criticised me for getting a Drivers’ Licence, saying it was a waste of money. And, besides, public transport in Norway eliminates the need to drive cars around. According to her, I want to have the Drivers’ Licence because it’s status symbol for us foreigners.
  3. As for me, I went out and bought myself an old Ford Escort car. She commented, “Such a typical poor immigrant’s car!”
    Later on I went out to buy a fancy big Mercedes. Her comment, “How vulgar!”
  4. Gentlemen, my woman does not want me to study. She says I don’t need education when I have a job, an office-cleaning job. It doesn’t seem to make sense to her that since the Norwegian labour market is not impressed with my university Economics degree, as well as my past corporate work experience from home, getting a Norwegian university qualification will help me get a better job, and improve our family’s disposable income. It will also help me restore my lost dignity since I came to exile. Norwegians make me feel real small when they seem to think I am a stupid, no brains man who is not, and can never be more competent than in cleaning toilets and things. All this does not make sense to her. Gents, I don’t know what to do. It seems the only thing we are good for here is being the ever non-expendable sex machines. Fuck James Brown!
  5. As for me, my woman argues that my wanting to study is driven by my male ego need to want to compete with her. She insists that foreign men are never comfortable with women who are academically and financially stronger than them.
  6. I tell my woman that I came to Norway primarily for higher education. I tell her that where I come from, education is power. When you are educated, everyone listens to you. I want to contribute to the liberation of my country with my educated brainpower. With my education I can improve the lives of my people when I go back to my liberated South Africa.
  7. Guys, I am now totally convinced that our Exile land women in love like us the most when we are weak and vulnerable. That way, they can play their feminist power games on us. I think we, as foreigners, are easier targets because we are not so very familiar with the war of the sexes in Western societies in the beginning.

Business College Rector: I welcome you all to our unique and special school … All of you sitting here are here because you are the strongest and the most intelligent from your poor Third World Countries. After you complete your special Business education at our school here in three years’ time, you must all go back to your countries and serve there. Norway does not need you …

It’s clear the Rector didn’t know anything about Exile land women in love.

 Exile man in love 1:  Hei, Darling! My mother has just phoned to inform me of my father’s death.
Exile land woman in love 1: Aha!? And now you want to go down there, no? Can’t your mother and your people burry him themselves then? Do you really have to be there?
Exile man in love 1:  Speechless!
Exile land woman in love 1: Look, these people have to understand that you have a life and family of your own in Norway. People can’t just decide to die and then expect you to come down running at short notice …

Exile man in love 1 got home in record time. Buried his father with honour befitting a man of the deceased’s stature. As the coffin was lowered into the grave, the love and romance of Exile man in love 1 whooshed beneath it …




Simon Chilembo
South Africa
March 28, 2014
Tel.: +27 717454115




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