Photo portfolio

Statesman Kgalema Motlanthe. Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego.

President Jacob Zuma officially handing over RDP houses in Danville, west of Pretoria. Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego.

Helen Zille of the Democratic Alliance (DA) during the inauguration of President Jocob Zuma. Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego 

Cast members, Vusi Twala and Nomzamo Mbatha, of Mzansi Magic's telenovela Isibaya.Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego.

Ministers Blade Nzimande and Aaron Motswaledi breaking for tea during Cabinet Lekgotla. Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego

Actress Zenande Mfenyane during the Department of Transport's Chek iCoast campaign. Photo by Letlhogonolo Mashego

Encounter with the real krostina!

The closest I had come to a “Krostina” was that bag that is divided into compartments until I bumped into this talented artist. Well, if you haven’t read my past piece about a krostina bag, let me bring you on par. Krostina is a bag that is divided into compartments. You can arrange your books in… - en klek, it is like a shelf. If you own one, you are a walking shelf.  It was quite popular in the 90’s downwards. Every teenager or scholar would kill to own such a bag. It was more or less like having an iPhone or an expensive designer bag. The kids who had a krostina seemed to be eating from a silver spoon. Although I didn’t have the bag, I didn’t fuss about it. I was an understanding kid but deep down I wanted that bag. Finances were just fine at home. We were neither poor nor rich. We were just surviving. We could afford the basic needs. It was not about owning a krostina, what mattered most, in my household, was that I had something to put my books in and sling to my back. After the year 2000, the bag was surely losing popularity. Very often, it was carried by nerds. There were other trending means of carrying books. There were those plastic book cases, one-hand bags and “smile day.” Smile day was a favourite for casual days, when we would wear casual clothes to school. For that day, there would be activities hence you only needed two to three books for the first few classes. If you don’t know what a smile day looks like, it’s a single pouch with two (or four strings depending on your critical thinking) strings which you loosen or tighten to open and close respectively.

 For some reason, my dad bought me a krostina when I was in high school. It was around 2007 or 8. *Covers eyes* It was long gone out of the market. I didn’t like the idea of owning such and my interest of owning that kind of a bag had faded with time. There were very few people who had it. To scale it down, it would be a drop in an ocean…but, like I pointed earlier, it was not about having to choose brands and all that, it was a matter of getting something to do the job [secure books and sling on the back].

Yoh, it took me forever to explain what a krostina is, well I won’t hold the thought here despite the cold weather of Potchefstroom. My hands are not weary yet. Anyway, that bag was the closest I had come to a krostina until I met the artist, Buhle Mazibuko. He came across as a passionate artist who valued tradition and had greater love for his accordion. By the way, Krostina is an accordion in English. Buhle hails from Free State, maane dithabeng tsa Qwaqwa. He shared stories with me about his accordion. I could sense passion and love for his instrument. He was playing his accordion at Napo Masheane’s live dvd shoot at the Joburg Theatre, Johannesburg. The theme for the dvd was “From the village to the city.” Well, that was when I discovered what a krostina is called in English. I remember the telephonic interview when Napo was briefing me about the show. As she painted the line-up of the show for me, she mentioned Buhle and his accordion among others.

When she was done painting the line-up, I had follow-up questions. The first one was to find out if she probably knew what a krostina is called in English. She brushed the slight embarrassing moment by saying it is conventionally known as a krostina to sotho-tswana speaking people. Now I know that it is an accordion. Coming to think of it, this instrument seems to have influenced life in so many ways. It is not limited to bags. Those of you who have used public transport, particularly buses, would know where this is going. There is a kind of a bus that is conventionally known as a krostina. Well, let me hold that thought here. Till next time!

  

Krostina [episode 1]

Where do I begin with this? My mind is flooded by ideas which I want to express but they are wired together like a spaghetti dish. I think it would be easier if I break them down into components or compartments. Remember that big school bag we used to carry in primary and middle school? The bag was quite big but the nice thing about it is that it had compartments for the books. One could arrange the books accordingly. 
I did not mention that the bag was used in high school intentionally. Well I had one when I was in high school but I used it for less than a week, 4 days to be precise. One of the days fell on a public holiday. I only used the bag for that shortest period because it had slowly losing popularity in high school. I became a laughing stock to the first day I carried it. The bag had 4 compartments, a small pocket inside and two other pockets from outside. You see the weight of convenience that came with that bag. You could stack up your things nicely. My peers did not see it from that vantage point. After all, we had recently adopted the "carry books according to the timetable" policy. The bag swallowed my A4 and A5 books. The policy was not that effective very often. Teachers would swap days and class periods and expect one to produce a book. Home was approximately 50 - 60 kilometers away from school. Going home to fetch a book from home would not work. I applied the policy on the textbooks. After all, you could always share a textbook with someone but not a class work book.  Although I baffled my peers with a "Krostina," as we would call it, it came in very handy. The bag looks like a Krostina which is well known by the Basotho people. It is an instrument that is close to their heart. I know some do not know what is a krostina. According to the settlers [who came in a ship from overseas many moons ago], it is called an "accordion." yeah, that is how the bag looks like. Alright, now that the issue of dividing my story into tiny explainable compartments. Let me start with the first compartment of my story. Never mind the photo above, I did not have a relevant photo of a krostina to accompany this text. Yoh, I've been typing here and I didn't share even one of the spaghetti stories yet. Let me hold the thought here for now and give my fingers a break. Like those Pokemon episodes. "to be continued..."

Caption: Basking in the sun like megaditswane [lizards] le majita after church.
Photo cred: Maila

UNTITLED

My life is not exactly where I want it to be. I have dreams and aspirations which I am striving to reach. Although I am not there yet, I am a firm believer that nothing is ever left to chance! I'm a firm believer! I believe nothing, even the tiniest minuscule outcome, happens by chance. I adopted an attitude which has recently kept me going. "Do your best - go all out and leave the results to fate... Oh! And Don't forget to be true to yourself. Whatever the outcome, its probably for the bigger goal the universe (God) has."

Other than your best, what more can you offer? I have found myself working hard towards my goals but having unfavourable results at times despite doing my best. "So, my best is not enough?" I would ask myself this question and it would break me in my alone time when the city lights fade, the traffic noise ceases down and the owls and bats fly above our roofs. When the stars get to shine in that moment. When everyone is deeply crafted in the warm nest of blankets at night, my mind would wander around and wonder what are the answers to these questions.

I figured I do not need answers or a formula to answer these questions! Life is not an equation that needs to be solved. It is meant be lived like a story told in a book. One word and one page at a time. Even the meanest rifle spits one round (bullet) at a time. One of the photojournalists I know, Lucas Ledwaba, says a great story is not written but told. Not to digress but to put more meat to this point, we ought to live life like we page after page a book heavy with appalling stories. The black ink engraved on those pages are not just text but the mind of the writer. Like a writer who flows with words, I will swim throughout this journey of life. Not literally swim though. You get the drill right? Mentioning "swimming" reminds me of two incidents where I came close to drowning. Ntokozo, a friend, became a hero as he came to my rescue. It was between 2009 and 2010 at Morula Sun. The incident is quite a laughing matter. The story is quite long and it can just be a topic for another day. Anyway I didn't plan writing and posting this but yeah, look at it as a snippet from my unwritten and unpublished memoir or one that could be written.
Let me conclude this piece and sleep. This piece is an hour of sleep I lost. Do you count your hours of sleep before you fall asleep? Lol
Never mind, as I was concluding: yep, this is my story, there is no formula or equation to live by, I will just take it word by word and page by page. Life is not spelled or written, it can only be lived. It is quite fascinating and interesting at the other side of our fears.
Can I asked for one thing? I didn't title this piece, can you come up with a title? 

Don't worry about the caption for this rushed photo. It was just me testing a photo editing program. Its quite cool. Anyway, I'm out!

Night writer!
L Mashego

Some of my published work at various media house but main for Daily Sun and Sunday Sun.

This after Napo Masheane's show at the Joburg Theatre.

Musa performing in Pretoria ahead of the Moretele Park Tribute Concert.

Tshwane Mayor Kgosientso Ramokgopa.

After interviewing the group under the wings of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Their story made it to the paper.

One of the musical jazz legends Julian Bahula. Although we have not met personally, we have developed a good working relationship. Although emails and phone calls are the only medium of communication, he managed to link me up with one his co-artists from Malombo Jazzmen who lives in South Africa. Bahula now resides in the United Kingdom and is involved in various projects.

When Josias Dos Moleele retold one of South Africa's story in theatre. Playwright Mbongeni Ngema thought the play was on point and he was proud that South African youth was taking charge by telling their own local stories.

 One of the monthly edition of the MotiveRev.

Some of my photographs that were used by the Beeld Newspaper.

Queen of Africa, Yvonne Chaka-Chaka launching her awards that aimed to celebrate backing vocals and session musicians.

A snapshot with Tata

WHEN THE CITY WAKES UP!

When the city woke up from a brief nap, I saw it covered with a blanket made of dusk.
It was sparkling here and there.
I figured it was the lights of resident who were waking up.
Burglars which felt the cold which reaches the core of the bone where dripping water.
It was because of the nights's fog.
I was before its sight as I had a firm grip of the camera with my right hand.
I witnessed the blanket slowly fading away.
The sky was becoming clearer and clear with time.
The sky looked like a bowl of ice cream with colourants.
As the sun took out an inch of the nose, the face of Pretoria was turning gold.
It was at this moment that this photograph came to life.
I remembered the words of my mentor.
"Don't shake and rush it."
This turned out to be one of my favourite photos for the day.
The rest of the photos that followed, the standard had already been set.

Busy bee