Let’s stop lying to ourselves. Apartheid might be dead on paper, but its ghost is still running the country. And no, it’s not just the white legacy — it’s this ANC government too. These so-called leaders are continuing the project. Black skin, white masks. Oppression wrapped in BEE. They tell us we are free, but everything around us says otherwise. We are not okay.
Ask yourself: Why did COVID-19 hit so hard in the townships and suburbs? Why were so many Black families burying loved ones every weekend? They told us it was co-morbidities — diabetes, hypertension, auto-immune diseases. But they never asked why those diseases were there in the first place. Let me tell you: stress, chronic stress.
Our people are overstressed, overworked, underpaid, underloved, and undervalued. This Western way of life is not meant for us. It never was. It’s killing us slowly — with soft drinks, office chairs, flashing screens, and unaffordable groceries. The pigsty is polished but it’s still a pigsty. The townships are concentration camps which are not fit for human habitation.
When Jimmy comes to Jo’burg, the first thing he abandons is himself. His rhythm. His sunlight. His peace. His Botho. He becomes a version of himself that fits into the machine. But that version starts to rot inside. That’s where the real disease begins — inflammation of the soul. A sick body follows.
We need to stop. Just stop. Cannabis and rest are medicine — but only when taken with intention. You can’t smoke your trauma away if you don’t even know you’re traumatised. You can’t rest when your spirit is wired to chase survival.
So what do we do? We slow down. We reconnect. We grow our own food and smoke and consume our own herbs, responsibly. We speak our truth in the sun. We reclaim what apartheid and capitalism stole — our time, our breath, our rhythm. We don’t need permission. We need presence.
Bra Peter says: Rest, my people. Smoke, reflect, and return to yourself.
The system will not save you. You will have to save yourself.