What does the killing of a rhino for its horn in the Kruger National Park have to do with me, sitting as I am in squalor in one of the myriad squatter camps that exist in Cape Town and throughout the country? The connection may seem tenuous, but in fact it is anything but. The deterioration of law enforcement in one area is merely a microcosm of a greater ill. The illegal wildlife trade persists not only because of cartels, the gravy train and the powers that be. It festers, eating away at our peace and lives like gangrene, because people do not see how it affects them. “They aren’t…

What is in a name? A rose by any other name smells just as sweet. 400 years ago, a little known playwright mused on the importance of a name and the weights that names carried. It seems that playwright and I share more than just a birthdate. My name is Nyameko Ishmael Bottoman; son, brother, partner, teacher and writer. Having lived in Asia for 15 years I have met people from all over the world and it is always an interesting thing watching people’s reactions when I give them my name. There are two reactions a) painstaking three – four minutes of trying to get the pronunciation down along with…

The Matrix came out at the turn of the millennium, and it was groundbreaking. The concept of humans living in an alternate reality so that machines can control them may have possibly inspired some of the beliefs we live in a simulation. I thought the movie was brilliant, but it wasn’t the supermarket philosophy or the great action scenes. What I found amazing was the concept of a world built to turn humans into batteries because I look at a world assaulted by hustle culture, 9-6-6 work life and other such absurdities. At the same time, everyday people run blood-soaked fingers over ever-diminishing coins as they try to rub out…

Leaving Home for Home I’m a “post-freedom” exile in my 15th year away from home. I have had short retrieves every summer to come home, see family, and fall once more in love with my country and people. But the knock on the door inevitably beats, and my conjugal visit with South Africa is over again. I am not the only one. I am a droplet in a flood of hope. Our flood started as a trickle when people started exploring outside South Africa. Prior to this, international travel was the parlance of the advantaged and rich. Now, it is a torrent of hope as young South Africans scramble to…