A DISCOURSE ON RACISM
This is to my Norwegian-speaking people, and others who do not understand some key issues of and about many Black people of African origin all over the world, particularly in Norway itself. Read this input bearing in mind that I come from South Africa originally.
Many years ago I had a friend in Oslo who had bought himself a wreck of a Ford Escort car. He loved this car so much he named it Michelle, after Pfeiffer. I’ve named my iPhone MichelleOS2, i.e. Michelle Obama-for-Simon, acknowledging my self-declared second level position. Not only do I find the name tantalizingly sweet, I also find that the few Michelles I know are stunningly beautiful and charming.
When you love, admire, adore, and value somebody or something high you give them beautiful names; you call them the sweetest, most cheerful, most uplifting things. This way hoping and wishing, perhaps, they will be around for ever to cheer up your, if not everybody’s days; spicing up your dreams, giving you hope and belief that one day the sun shall shine on you too so that you can meet these people/ things live to thrive in their glory, even if only for a moment. My BlackBerry is called BarackOTM, for He is THE Man.
My first ever regularly paid-up job I got about only a few days after my thirteenth birthday; South African schools winter holidays, 1973. I became a junior waiter at a then very, very popular WHITES ONLY! Italian restaurant, Caponero. I quickly learned the tricks of the trade, and, in no time, I was such a hit I’d some weekends get more tips than my father!
Three families that came to dine all evening most Fridays were absolute favourites of mine. This was for the common reason that they tipped most generously indeed. There were distinctive differences, though …(Continued in the book: “MACHONA BLOGS – As I See It”. Order Simon Chilembo books on Amazon)
Simon Chilembo
Oslo, Norway
December 20, 2011
Simon Chilembo 
I am living outside South Africa today but the scars from apartheid treatment will not go away. Time has not healed those. As a child my parents and any other person of of nonwhite descent
was called that”————‘ in place of what they really are. A kaffir, boy, girl, coolie, boesman, outa, aia, maid. To stop any of these it meant challenging the system and fighting to the death. I was lucky, I escaped to exile.
To be continued.
Live strong always. We’re in this together, Leslie.
[…] consist of men and women, boys and girls, as well as children of both sexes. In Norway, the term ‘nigger’ is considered as insulting by many Africans with Black (and variable grades/ tones/ shades of […]
[…] guy drinking a bottle of beer he had scrounged off some other guys earlier on lectures me, “You kaffirs come to our township here, open a shebeen, make a lot of money, and think you are hot. Shit you! […]
[…] later, 1973, I landed my first ever formal employment job as a junior waiter at a then Whites Only Italian Restaurant in my hometown, […]