Between Thoughts -Intellectual Musings

It is supper. 

Daughters asked – 

Daddy,  do you want to be famous?. Because of the weird day.

It was a weird day, we went to the mall  and their father was stopped seven times. A person asked him to autograph their book “This Country Hates Our Men(Boys)”, others to take photos or a video for the gram and TT. One said – you taught me Consumer Behaviour and Marketing at UCT and a friend said – me too it was Multiculturalism at AAA School of Advertising. Every stop was a few more minutes away from H&M, Zara and ice cream (Gelato). My youngest said – daddy you are famous. 

At dinner (supper) they asked again. 

Do you want to be famous? 

Daddy responded-: 

No fame, my daughters. 

I know enough famous people who are not useful. Not helpful. Not even happy. Fame is a golden prison — beautiful from the outside, suffocating from within. The golden bars are made of other people’s opinions and you never hold the key.

Fame is a trap dressed in sequins. It glitters, it beckons, it trends — and then it bills you in ways nobody warned you about. The currency of fame is other people’s attention, which means you are permanently one bad tweet, one unflattering photo, one opinion-held-too-loudly away from bankruptcy. 

And here’s the cruelty nobody tells you: fame doesn’t always bring f**k off money. That’s the great con. You can be famously broke. Celebrities with blue ticks and empty fridges. Influencers with millions of followers and borrowed rent. The applause is loud. The bank balance is quiet. 

Many famous people die poor. Not metaphorically poor — literally poor. Broke and beloved. Eulogised and evicted. Buried by the state, their  death is the  tax payers burden. Not sure it’s fair to the tax payer for they should have at least left their family with a Avbob funeral policy to cover all the funeral expenses. 

The Madlanga Commission – needs to look into this matter. 

Yho! I am fame bitter. Let me add more bitterness.  Just for control. 

The same crowd that screamed your name at the stadium cannot find R50 for your funeral. The 20% (>R500k earners per year)  of taxpayers contributing roughly 77% of personal income tax (PIT) already fit the SASSA bill for 30 million plus South Africans must now add Fame Tax to the equation as if “Black Tax” is not enough.  I am not even going to talk about the 340,000 taxpayers who earn over R1 million, contributing over 50% of total personal income tax. The over R1m earners  work so hard for 12 months and close to 5,4 months of their hard earned sweat goes to a  government who wastes it on pools 

(fire hydrants),  showers and shit. 

Hayi! I am spicey- hot spicey! 

I said moving on swiftly. 

Clearly, this is touching me in my studio!. I sound like Priviledge, if he had a name , he would be me. 

So no. Not fame.

I want meaning, significance and  impact. Since today (Friday, 3rd, 2026)  is the Easter holiday and this weekend is all about Jesus, the Son of Man. I want to be known the way Jesus in the Garima Gospels (Ethiopian Biible)— more than two thousand years later, still changing lives, still quoted at dinner tables, still arguing in boardrooms and bedrooms and courtrooms. Still relevant. 

But — and this is the clause I’m adding to the contract — ‘without the crucifixion’.  

Yes, I said ‘without the crucifixion’. 

I want the legacy. Not the  suffering. The resonance, not the nails. The movement without martyrdom. I want to matter to people I will never meet, in places I will never visit, long after I am gone. 

That is the ambition. Not to trend. To endure.

Fame is a flash. Impact is a fire that outlives the flame.

Choose wisely, my daughters.  Choose impact.

Daughter 1,  responds: 

You once told us that  “life is suffering”. You are contradicting yourself, dear Daddy.  How can you not want the crucifixion? Not wanting  the crucifixion is not wanting the suffering. When you ask God for growth.  SHE  does not give you growth. SHE  gives you an opportunity to grow and sometimes that opportunity means –  the road to heaven must pass through hell. Hell is the cross, the crucifixion. 

Daddy dearest, the synonym for suffering is Growth. Remember – a soul once stretched never returns to its original shape. 

Daughter 2,  jumped in:

I agree with my sister.  If you do not want the crucifixion, 

How do you rise up on the third day?. 

How do you save so many? . 

How do you honour the one (John the Baptist) who baptised you, who said ‘my time has come to decrease so he may rise’  and nogaal – he lost his life and head on a silver tray?. 

Jesus’s crucifixion,  death and resurrection is an  expression of  an abstract and existential idea through a concrete concept and object. It is the  ultimate victory over sin and death, offering humanity reconciliation with God, forgiveness, and the promise of eternal life. 

The synonym for crucifixion should be sacrifice, and other words we could add are grace, hope, covenant and rebirth. 

Daughter 3, the youngest with a naughty smile chimed in:

Preach sisters – Preach. 

And the church said, Amen 

The traditional healer said – Camagu, Siyavuma! 

Jesus  is good and good all the time. 

Say something Papa David, say something. 

Remember David was a man after God’s own heart, loved dearly by God, despite his imperfections, and famously chosen to be the king of Israel. What do you have to say for yourself Papa David after being cooked by your young, gifted and free  daughters. 

Papa David (aka Father, Daddy, Mzamo, David) needed to respond:- 

Deep silence at first. 

The specific silence of a parent who has been philosophically mugged and psychologically hijacked  by their own daughters. The silence of a man who quotes Nietzsche, Jung,  Dostoevsky, Biko, Sobukwe, Jordan Pieterson, Lewis Nkosi and Saint Winnie Madikizela- Mandela,  at breakfast and gets invoiced for it at supper. 

The daughters were, of course, completely correct.

I had handed them  the knife and bullets myself. 

Life is suffering — I said it. I meant it. 

I have lived it. It is the Why,  that Nietszche once observed – “a man who has a Why can withstand any How and What”.  

Wanting impact without suffering is wanting the harvest without the soil. It is wanting the muscle without the resistance. It is wanting the resurrection story without the inconvenient Friday that precedes it.

Suffering is not the interruption of a good life; it is the tuition. The fee the universe charges for depth, for wisdom, for the kind of character that holds when everything is falling apart. 

You do not get Nelson Mandela without Robben Island. No Steve Biko and Black Consciousnes without police brutality and torture, ultimately a painful death.   You do not get the resurrection without the cross. You do not get any of the good stuff without paying for it. 

And here I was — in the same mouth, sometimes in the same week — telling my daughters to chase impact while quietly filing a formal objection to the cost of impact.

I want the legacy. Not the nails.

What an embarrassing thing to have said out loud.

Yet I felt the need to double down on my defense for ” no crucifixion”. 

I added: 

Please amuse your dear Daddy , and allow me to contradict myself so you know I am many David’s, Mzamo’s , Daddys, Pappas, Baba. Always remember – say not you have found ‘the’ truth but rather say I have found ‘a’ truth. A truth you have spoken and agree with wholeheartedly. 

If we are staying with the metaphor I so confidently introduced — I want to  negotiate the cross amd crucifixion away. 

I want a prayer that says “let this cup pass from me”. The most honest prayer in scripture. The most human moment in the whole story of Jesus. 

 And I want to add: “nevertheless, not your will this time but mine”. 

Allow me to be a heretic and  argue for a case for Impact without a crucifixion- amolisation. 

After having transcended my many crosses in Gugukethu, Valhalla Park, Khayelitsha, eXesi (Middledrift)  from apartheid, poverty, inequality, bantu education, absent father – present violent father, okapis, stabbings,  gun shots, juvenile, pollsmoor prison, gangsters, molestation, sexual abuse, drugs, drug dealing, not dying young and  psychological immune deficiency to mention a few. 

Has the brother not had enough crosses to bear, to  transcend? 

How many resurrections in this finite life?

   Ndidiniwe (Ek is moeg!- I am tired) yi Suffering! 

I want  impact, meaning  without the “Ick”, 

“blood”, ” nails”. 

Let’s be honest: the traditional road to world-changing impact is, frankly, a PR nightmare.

Between the public lashings, the heavy timber, and the complete lack of a skincare routine in the wilderness, the “Crucifixion Model” of leadership is overdue for a disruption.

If you want to change the world—and let’s face it, my  LinkedIn profile and  headline says I do already —it’s time to pivot to, 

           Impact Without the Immolation. 

Here are four reasons why we should leave the cross in the first century and embrace the “Crown Without the Thorns” lifestyle.

Reason 1 – Scalability and Retention. 

It is a basic principle of HR: survive, do not die and outlive all the bastards.  You cannot build a sustainable movement if the Founder is dead,  unavailable for the Q3 check-in due to being, well, deceased. A martyr’s impact is “one and done.” You do not have a holy bible and scripture to leave behind. All the holy books have been written. They are not adding any new gospels. By skipping the death,  sacrifice, you remain available for keynotes, masterclasses, and sponsored retreats. Why die for the people when you can offer them a 15% to 30%  discount code for “Resurrection Green Juice”?

Reason 2 – Optics and Personal Branding. 

Blood is notoriously difficult to get out of organic linen. I laughed out loud! I am funny. 

The aesthetic of the “Suffering Servant” simply doesn’t play well on Instagram. A curated photo of you looking pensively at a sunset over Galilee (with a high-quality filter) communicates “Spiritual Authority” much more effectively than a grisly execution. People want to follow a winner, not a cautionary tale about Roman Dutch  law.

Reason 3 – The “Soft” Resurrection. 

In the old days, you had to actually expire to prove a point. In the digital age, a “Resurrection” is simply what happens after a 30-day “social media detox.” You emerge from the tomb of your villa, refreshed and rebranded, claiming you’ve “conquered your demons” (which were actually just a mild caffeine addiction and a bad Wi-Fi connection). It’s the same narrative arc, just with significantly less trauma.

Reason 4 – Delegated Suffering. 

True leadership is about delegation. Why should the visionary endure the hardship? If there is any “dying” to be done—metaphorically speaking—that’s what unpaid interns and junior associates are for. They handle the “crosses” of painful admin, mundane tasks,  data entry and customer service, while you focus on the high-level “beloved” status.

My dear daughters; 

The “Way of the Cross” was a bold MVP (Most  Valuable Player ) or maybe (Minimum Viable Product), but we’ve moved past the beta phase. In today’s economy, the most “beloved” figures are those who can command a legion of followers without ever breaking a sweat, let alone a commandment or a bone.

Remember: You don’t need to be “lifted up” on a hill if you have enough SEO (Search Engine Optimisation) , Bayesian, MMM (Marketing Mix Models), a Byron Sharp and Behavioural Scientists as disciples  to be at the top of the search results, to generate leads and conversion. 

Me and Elon Musk, the reluctant South African,  are going to live on another planet where crucifixion is replaced by Machina (hint – the movie Ex Machina). 

To circle back my kids: 

Choose wisely, my daughters. Choose Impact. 

The Jesus caveat is the whole joke and the whole truth at once. Because the fine print on most great impacts is suffering. The cross. The crucifixion. The cancellation. The misunderstanding. The being-ahead-of-your-time tax. Every Moses has a wilderness. Every Mandela has a prison. Every prophet has a rejection letter from his hometown.

So perhaps the most honest version of this prayer is: Lord, give me the legacy but spare me the price. Which, if we’re being honest, is what most of us are really asking for.

And maybe — just maybe — the courage is in asking anyway.

I quickly left the room before the free and empowered could answer. I said to young, gifted, beautiful  and free – 

At 50+ you must pee before you need to pee. By the time you need to pee – you are late!