People in power get away with crme

The Jacob Zuma case, When he raped a teenage girl. Jacob Zuma was suppose to be arrested because rape is a very serious crime but instead people were in favour of him not being arrested especially in KwaZulu Natal people did not want to believe that their future president would be a rapist and Jacob Zuma took this very light because after raping the gal he mentioned that he took a shower so has no AIDS. It was very unthoughtful of him to do that cause that girl is the same age as his daughters or younger. Imagine your child being raped by an old man like Zuma and saying those kinds of things like she wanted it, it was very wrong of him. Imagine the pain of your child being raped by an old man and this men is old enough to be her father. It was very unfair because after that Jacob Zuma continued with his life normally and perfect and the girl was take away from her mother land. She had to adapt to another country or town she was pushed away from her family, friends and every body she new. Zuma did not only lived a normal life after that he because President of our country and this was very disturbing for a ma who has done such bad things like what he has done and am very sure he never checked how the girl was doing. This very painful for the family.

A world full of "note pads and deadlines"...

A first year journalist student has nothing valuable to contribute to the world of journalism, right? Wrong! As a journalist blogger myself, I have sifted through what feels like hundreds of stale, somewhat trivial bogs throughout the year, and have found this. It can simply be defined as- a blog amongst blogs.

"Note pads and deadlines", a rather recent addition to journalism blogosphere, may not be the most visually appealing blog around, however its controversial, thought-provoking, brutally honest and challenging essence, constantly makes you re-evaluate your views on critical issues within the world today.

This blog deals with a multitude of issues, ranging from environmental, political, racial, cultural and social phenomena which constantly arouse journalists in the world today. With the use of clear, descriptive and sometimes highly amusing writing, the blog ensures that important journalistic messages come across to every reader. "Note pads and deadlines" uses thoughtful writing, yet it is still able to speak to the student journalist, allowing them to relate to every post. It is inspirational pushing journalists to reach their full potential and to truly engage with the world around them.

The visual aspects of this blog is linked directly to its witty title, as a notepad-like theme is applied throughout the blog, ultimately adding a hint of funk to the screen. It goes without saying that this blog is highly original and highly recommended to any budding journalist student.

Although the writers of this blog are based in South Africa, this enticing blog has no geographical boundaries as it spreads itself across the globe, dealing with issues that allow anyone to properly engage with the world around them. I have nothing more to say but, get out your notepad and pen, because this is a deadline you simply do not want to miss!

Head feels part of litter for an hour

FINAL JMS BLOG POST:

My heart is filled with mixed emotions that are moving at an erupt speed, congested in a limited era of the ‘battle of the fittest’ surprising enough the prickly like feelings of fear come out victorious within this heart breaking experience. My bodily movements are slow like a soft breeze on a cool sunny afternoon. My brain is receiving endless chemical reactions so that a 'constant', becomes a ‘once upon a time’ phenomenon.

This is one experience that I have never undertaken. and the task is becoming daunting by the minute. I desolately sit my back side on a hard surface, a mat, as I unwillingly reach for the main subject needed to make this task possible…my bin.

I think for what seems like eternity, as I put my head in the bin, I can feel my spinal cord stretch to its maximum and it continues to battle with this new stretch. I quickly, while shaking type 23:34 in my alarm, as this would be an exact hour to finishing my dreadful task. I quickly reminisce about the thoughts that have lead me to perform this task, as within ten minutes, my neck is so stiff as though it had been fastened tightly into its new position. My lower back also stiff and sore like pins pricking at my back. The scariest feeling is that I feel like I am in a cage due to my stationary position. With each minute passing my body aching.

For this day and this hour I feel as though my head belongs in the bin, part of the litter that one throws instinctively. The reason behind this is still hazy within my brain but I know these 60 minutes would allow me to achieve the unknown.

The time slowly passes by, and by the minute my body aches more and more, and finally…TTTTTTRRRRRRR! My alarm rings and I am finished ( excuse the pun). I literally have to wait for five minutes to pass until my body could adjust to its historical position, once more…the things Journalists do just to break free of the ideologies put within society...MY WORD!

Key-tastrophe!

I lay quietly in bed, on Tuesday afternoon, fully absorbed in an overtly dramatic episode of Desperate Housewives. Yet, in my relaxed state, a nagging feeling kept interrupting me, drowning the essence of my relaxation, as I was constantly reminded of the fact that I had not yet completed my new journalism blogging assignment. "Do something you've never done before" our journalist lecture excitedly proclaimed the previous day. That I've never done before? Really? Um...

The miserable drizzle outside intensified with every moment of my perplexity. It was only when the thick, velvet melody of raindrops dancing on the roof turned into hard distinct pounds, when I recognised that it had started to hail. In a moment of sheer brilliance I realised that dancing in hail is something I had never done before and would perfectly qualify for my assignment (no matter how painful it was). I instantly jumped out of bed to head for the door.

Filled with pluck and energy, I opened the door, and slipped the key into the security gate lock. As I turned the key, however, I found, to my horror, that it had in fact tore in half! Shocked at my astounding strength or at the simply pathetic quality of key manufacturing, I soon realised that I was stuck in my flat and had no way out. Alone and stranded, my neighbour came running when he heard me scream for help. With pliers in hand he and I both attempted to turn the very last bit of key that was sticking out of the lock. The victory was, however, short-lived as the pliers confirmed our belated hypothesis as it tore off all that what was left of the key.

In an act of desperation I plunged myself into every corner of the flat, in the hopes of finding a spare key that I was not confident even existed. It felt like hours before I came across a small, abandoned, silver key that was wedged into the corner of the kitchen cupboard, amongst the ironically dirty, cleaning products.

The key was useless to me, until I was able to remove the small fragment of metal lodged so intimately into the slit of the lock. "'n Boer maak 'n plan", I quietly whispered to myself, imagining what my mother would do in this situation. And so, for the sake of upholding the core of my cultural heritage, I simply realised that I had to force the fragment out, no matter what that would mean. With my golden, delicate and inappropriately expensive pair of tweezers in my one hand, and the stubborn industrial lock in the other, I started pinching... and pinching. It was only after twenty minutes had passed, when I was able to successfully unlock the gate and run into my long awaited freedom.

Both the hail and rain had stopped by now, leaving the familiar miserable drizzle behind to comfort me as I stood shocked, confused, and silenced by the entire scenario. I quietly returned to the safety of my bed, sat for a few moments and slowly grew pleased with the idea, that the entire ordeal was most certainly something I have never experienced before!

"shoot to kill" is moronic, imbecile and naive

Last night i watched a news bulletin on e-tv around 10:00pm. in the incident involving shooting between 5 robbers and money delivering vehicle. 4 of the robbers were shot dead in the scene while one securuty was injured, i was perplexed by the way the reporter made fun out of the whole situation, shooting of people cannot be seen as a 'win' by the government who is failing its people. it was a very emotional incident, dead people scattered all over the place uncovered. government, police and those reporetrs who are in their comfort zone must atleast respect the humanity of the black man and understand why blacks are on crime..why? if killing black people is a 'win' therefore apartheid government was victorious. the government must find another way of dealing with crime.

Reportesrs: You are the serial killers!

Continous dehumanising of african people, and its continent is a serious issue that needs close attention. We have also dealt with this issue in our journalism course in ideology and narrative and genre.

MY area of interest in these stories are the words that are used by the world reporters when depicting African situation, words such as famine, ethiopia as the "closet thing to hell on earth", dark dispairing days, congested, Crowded, flimsiest of clothing; " and when describing ppeople often as - exhausted, often woefully thin, hungry people trying to find food, criminal and corrupt As a student journalist i am worried of this continuos negative depiction of africa. Fiske in his writing of narrative and genre says that this is done deliberately, it is not seen as impacting on African peoples lives but as comfirming 'ours'. this also plays into the stereotype that Africa is a doomed continent, one of the writers once wrote "africa a country of darkness" what puzzles me is the fact that despite the increase in the level of education globally, people especially reporters continue depicting africa as place of no hope.

What not to do...

Don't we all just some times feel like this is all we're doing in the world? As budding journalism students, we need to make sure to remind ourselves that "No matter how one may think himself accomplished, when he sets out to learn a new language, science, or the bicycle he has entered a new realm as truly as if he were a child newly born into the world." - Frances Willard.