Political cartoonist Zapiro's work is as important as ever following the Charlie Hebdo killings. His life and role in society is discussed.
Cartoonist Jonathan Shapiro – aka Zapiro – is South African journalism’s Don Quixote: he has taken up his pen to defend the vulnerable, honour heroes, point fingers at the corrupt and poke fun at our quirky country and its eccentric people.
Chief Rabbi Warren Goldstein spectacularly sums up the essence of the ANC honouring Jackie Selebi as morally indefensible, encapsulating the importance of a nation pursuing moral accountability as the backbone of democracy. In this scathing piece Goldstein leaves us no doubt of the message sent by Government in its support of the legacy that Jackie Selebi has left behind. If there is one article that is worth reading to inspire the necessity of integrity in our everyday lives and to rise up against the pull of corruption, it is this piece.
SAPS national commissioner says that is easy to stand back and criticise once someone has fallen from grace
Speaker Notes: Funeral of the late Jacob Sello Selebi: National Commissioner, General Riah Phiyega
Mrs Anne Selebi, devoted widow of Commissioner Selebi, and your sons, All other family members and friends, Comrades from the African National Congress, Former and serving members of the South African Police Service, Distinguished guests from all walks of life and from across the globe.
Someone as complicated as Jackie Selebi, a former ANC Youth League leader, foreign affairs supremo, Struggle icon and corrupt cop, was always going to have a complicated funeral. Many people would remember only the news headlines of the last decade, the shoes and clothes bought by “my friend, finish en klaar” Glen Agliotti. Those who knew him for a much longer time would remember someone very different. He is not alone in his complexity. Someone like Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, while not corrupt, had a similarly complex legacy.
LSE’s Joy Ndubai calls Indians in Africa: Impact and Legacy by Olof G Tandberg an insightful quick read that delves into the economic, political and social impact of Indians in East and Southern Africa. From the 19th century trade with merchants on the shores of East Africa, Mau Mau resistance in Kenya, trading in Nyerere’s Tanzania, to Uganda under Idi Amin and apartheid South Africa, Tandberg offers a historical account of the experiences of prosperity, marginalisation and expulsion of Indians from the pre-colonial to post-colonial era.
The unbanning of political parties caught people unawares, but most can recall where they were.
“I was on a toilet with Archbishop Tutu.” That was my response to the question from an American visitor, who had asked: “Where were you on that day?”
I hastened to clarify; I did not want to create the wrong impression about the Arch.
We were trying to address a large crowd at the annual protest march to the opening of Parliament. We were standing on a public toilet in Greenmarket Square in Cape Town.
At seven p.m. sharp, seven nights a week, during the darkest days of apartheid, an incendiary radio broadcast beamed out from Lusaka, Zambia. It began with the clack of machine-gun fire, followed by a familiar call-and-response: Amandla Ngawethu! “Power to the People!” The shooting faded in and out, waxing and waning with the chant.