Ukho Nyobo

[Ukho Nyobo @ukho_nnn]

@titi_meraba @_Hybreed_ Danko Grootman

[✧˚ @Kinngszn]

Exulansis

[Ukho Nyobo @ukho_nnn]

@TraderDiegoX @tradingview TIME

[Ukho Nyobo @ukho_nnn]

@DodgysDD Balanced Price Range

[😈 Xavier ✞ @RealXavier011]

Thats a super need!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥

[KG⚒👷🏽‍♂️ @kaygeeminer]

Bro, if we lock in now, we would be far by end of the year.

[Ukho Nyobo @ukho_nnn]

@rnbradar I was hoping for this song to be included🥲

[Sizwe SikaMusi @SizweLo]

Here’s the darkest truth you’re going to read this week: The Reserve Bank tolerates and regularly engineers South Africa’s high unemployment as a tool to protect the currency.

This isn’t some conspiracy theory. The SARB’s logic is that when unemployment is low, workers have too much bargaining power and demand higher wages which raise business costs, which spills into higher prices.

So, to prevent these higher prices, the central bank raises interest rates, making borrowing more expensive. This is meant to cool consumer spending and labour market, which slows the economy.

However, this slower economy means fewer jobs and weak wage growth.

To the Reserve Bank, high unemployment is a kind of “inflation safety valve.” Staffed with mainstream economists, it views unemployment through the lens of something they call NAIRU: the “non-accelerating inflation rate of unemployment.”

In simple terms, NAIRU (along with the Philips Curve) is the level of joblessness they think the country needs to maintain so that inflation doesn’t spiral upward.

This may sound perverse, but to these people, low unemployment is viewed as a problem to be solved, not a goal.

But it gets worse, the SARB has an inflation-targeting mandate, but no formal employment mandate. So even in situations where inflation is driven by production costs of fuel, food, and electricity, the SARB still raises interest rates, even though doing this does nothing to fix those supply problems.

After all, higher borrowing costs will not produce more factories to improve the supply of goods.

What these rate increases do achieve is suppressing demand and wages in a country with already catastrophic unemployment, which means even those with jobs keep getting lower and lower wages. South African workers earn 42% less today than in 2017 precisely because of the SARB’s policies.

This clearly shows how, at their core, these policies are class-biased and are meant to protect wealthy investors and the financial sector at the expense of workers and the unemployed.

The idea behind these policies is basically that South Africans should learn to accept permanent mass unemployment as the cost of a “stable” currency.

Basically, the Reserve Bank is saying “We must keep unemployment high to prevent investors from taking their money elsewhere, and everyone else must just deal with it”.

What’s particularly cynical about all of this is that this system is presented as just basic economics when it’s actually a political choice to protect certain class interests.

And because the unemployed and the working class don’t have lobbyists or the ability to move capital across borders, their interests get disregarded.

All of this is entirely because South Africa’s government has failed to implement a mass industrial policy to create jobs, leaving the SARB as the only “disciplinarian” in the room.

So as long as the country’s economic policy continues to be tethered to protecting the currency above safeguarding livelihoods, South Africa will be permanently trapped in a cycle of normalised mass unemployment.

But here’s the most crucial part: In a society where employment is the primary means of survival, full employment should be treated as the non-negotiable constraint, with other economic variables including some level of inflation being what the economists are willing to adjust and tolerate.

Instead, they’ve inverted this, treating currency stability as sacred while treating mass unemployment as an unfortunate but acceptable policy outcome.

South Africans need to recognise that true economic stability is not a stable currency achieved through mass unemployment and that the current obsession with the rand’s stability will continue to worsen the existing deep economic instability for millions of people.

Lastly, nationalising the Reserve Bank will not alleviate these problems because the issue has never been the ownership of the Bank...

[VT @VusiThembekwayo]

“Competition happens at the bottom.
Collaboration happens at the top.”

~ Unknown

[Sizwe SikaMusi @SizweLo]

If your policy choice is to privatise public assets, then you automatically have an incentive to cause public assets to “fail”.

They're not incompetent, they've always known exactly what they were doing.

[Sizwe SikaMusi @SizweLo]

One of the successes of American hegemony and cultural brainwashing is the inculcation of the idea that liberal democracy is the ultimate form of governance.

This is why on Africa Day, you see an African person calling for democracy in Burkina Faso.

This (non) thinking is a recitation of the American gospel which preaches that liberal democracy is the singular, sacred path to legitimate rule.

By liberal democracy we mean elections, multi-party systems, judicial independence, freedom of speech. All of this is now treated not as one model among many, but as the final destination of political evolution, and the African genuinely believes this.

The idea that legitimacy comes only from elections is now so deeply ingrained that leaders who seize power through other means, even in the face of collapse or neo-colonial extraction, are instantly dismissed as illegitimate, tyrannical or primitive.

Meanwhile, the reality is that a vote means nothing in a country where the economy is already captured by foreign creditors and every minister is just a neo-colonial manager.

So, to uncritically repeat that “power must come from the electorate” is to ignore how that electorate is shaped, constrained, and manipulated by global capital, local oligarchs, and ideological gatekeepers.

If Africa is to be free, it must reclaim the right to experiment politically and build new forms of revolutionary governance based on the material realities of its people, not the fantasies of American embassies.

The continent must thoroughly escape the chokehold that treats liberal democracy not as one option among many, but as the only legitimate form of political life.

Most importantly, this thinking must begin not in constitutions or policy papers, but in how political leaders conduct themselves and imagine power.

Sadly, even the most radical or populist African political formations sing from the liberal hymn book. They speak of elections as salvation, parliaments as the supreme arena of change, and courts as the ultimate arbiters of truth.

Their manifestos are laced with borrowed idioms of “rule of law,” “checks and balances,” and “good governance”—terms whose origins lie not in African political culture, but in Western crisis management tools.

In so doing, they betray their own promises and offer instead a reformist illusion wrapped in revolutionary rhetoric.

The truth is, most of Africa’s dominant political classes are fluent in the grammar of liberalism. Whether they seize power through the ballot or the bullet, they often seek legitimacy through Western-style rituals: press briefings, electoral commissions, transitional charters.

To truly decolonise politics, Africans must create political futures that reflect their lived conditions.

This means inventing new forms of revolutionary democracy, not liberalism’s stage-managed top-down technocracy.

[Sizwe SikaMusi @SizweLo]

The United States has 800 military bases worldwide and would love to have one in South Africa. However, because of South Africa’s political positioning, this is not viable. This is where Starlink comes in.

Proponents of Elon Musk’s satellite internet present it as a solution to rural disconnection, a godsend for farmers, rural clinics and schoolchildren. But Starlink is not just bandwidth in the bundus. It’s a Trojan Horse designed for 21st-century American domination.

If and when South Africa opens its airspace, it will find that “securing our borders” is the least of its problems. South Africans will discover that sovereignty leaks not through borders but through satellites.

Starlink pretends to be a neutral service provider. But neutrality is fiction in geopolitics. While its marketing speaks of farmers and learners, Starlink’s parent company, SpaceX, is neck-deep in the US military-industrial complex.

SpaceX holds Pentagon contracts for missile tracking and battlefield communication. Its satellites are integrated into NATO-linked defence networks. And under the Starshield programme, it is actively developing military-grade space capabilities.

In Ukraine, we saw the real Starlink: coordinating drone strikes, powering real-time battlefield intelligence, and even at Elon Musk’s whim, it dictated the limits of military operations. This isn’t telecoms. It’s geopolitical domination masquerading as broadband.

Now imagine this network quietly embedding itself across South Africa, not as a traditional foreign base with boots on the ground, but as a network of terminals, antennas, and encrypted channels beyond local control. No soldiers, no flag. Just a silent satellite occupation.

Starlink doesn’t need to obey local laws; it bypasses them. Ground stations may be offshore or in neighbouring states. Traffic is routed through US-controlled channels.

When Starlink lands, ICASA will be rendered irrelevant, sidelined by a network that answers not to Pretoria but to Palo Alto and the Pentagon. Forget the BEE requirements. Your honourable members in the Parliamentary committees can discuss them vigourously amongst themselves.

In practice, this means any embassy, NGO or mining company using Starlink would be operating in a digital enclave, communicating independently of the state, shielded from scrutiny, and free from South African jurisdiction. This is the erosion of digital sovereignty, and it’s happening under the radar, literally.

Across Africa right now, NGOs operating in conflict zones or resource-rich regions now rely on Starlink. This creates a parallel communications infrastructure: fast, encrypted, and entirely unaccountable to the host state. These terminals can communicate across borders without touching local networks, making them invisible to regulators, security agencies, and even policymakers.

In practice, this means that foreign-funded NGOs, mining firms, and diplomatic missions can operate within South Africa but outside its digital jurisdiction. South Africa will be digitally Balkanised by infrastructure it neither owns nor controls.

Real-time African data on movement, transactions, agriculture, climate, and demographics will be harvested without oversight and used to train AI models, support predictive policing, or guide strategic investments. All of this happens outside African jurisdictions, enriching US intelligence, tech firms, and defence agencies.

Crucially, the data flowing through these Starlink terminals is not neutral. It’s routed through US-controlled ground stations, governed by American law, and increasingly fed into AI systems, surveillance platforms, and military simulations.

Now, contrast this with how the United States treats foreign technology. Huawei was banned outright because the US believes it could compromise national security. TikTok has faced legislative bans, sanctions, and forced divestments. The justification is that American sovereignty must be protected from Chinese infrastructure.

But in Africa, US tech is welcomed with no questions asked. Starlink is entering countries like Nigeria, Rwanda, Kenya, and Zambia, often outside normal regulatory processes, with no public debate, and in most cases, in defiance of local telecom and regulatory laws.

Where the US sees data infrastructure as a matter of national defence, African governments too often see it as a development opportunity. But digital dependency is still dependency, and when the infrastructure is foreign-owned, so is the power.

The brilliance of Starlink is that it needs no bases. Its dishes are rural clinics. Its antennas are schools. Its forward-operating stations are NGOs. And its justification is always wrapped in the warm glow of “progress.”

But we must learn from history: the railroads of the colonial empires weren’t built for the people, they were built to extract. Today’s satellites do not just connect, they entrench, create dependencies, determine how data flows, how communications are routed and who holds the keys to the cloud.

Already, Starlink is live across much of Africa. In each case, its arrival is celebrated as “leapfrogging traditional telecoms technology.” But Africans should ask themselves what they are leapfrogging into.

South Africa is next in line to be lulled by the illusion of harmless technology, and once this system is embedded, it cannot be dislodged.

The truth is that Starlink is not in it for the money. The commercial model makes no sense in rural South Africa, where the incomes are low and the population is sparse. There’s a reason why network coverage is poor in rural areas. There’s no money to be made there.

Meanwhile, the people who can afford to pay for Starlink are in urban areas and already have relatively affordable high-speed LTE and fibre. So why the interest?

Because, again, this isn’t about profit, it’s about presence and judging by how Starlink is brushing aside the country’s BEE laws, it will almost certainly pressure regulators for exemptions and use NGO-driven deployments to sidestep procurement laws.

The feel-good narrative of “connecting the unconnected” is not philanthropy, it’s a Trojan Horse aimed at the last African state with both the capacity and the inclination to resist American technological dominance.

This isn’t about giving villagers 480p YouTube. It’s about embedding US communications in a BRICS country, dominating infrastructure for NGOs and military contractors, securing exclusive access to real-time African data for AI and intelligence applications, and weakening South Africa’s sovereignty without ever firing a shot.

Starlink is the perfect proxy: a private company doing what governments can’t admit to. For South Africa, accepting Starlink means accepting the expropriation of digital control.

History teaches us that the technologies of empire rarely announce themselves with weapons. They come with promises. They come with progress, and they are here.

[. @NkosiYummy]

Daily Sun was borderline religious in the hood.

That’s why it’s called a Quran’t…

[local friend @unclevibes_]

lmao ayoooo

[VT @VusiThembekwayo]

That Reacher vs. Paulie fight sequence is really good.

Unrealistic.
But very entertaining.

[Ukho Nyobo @ukho_nnn]

@FlagBlack007 The song playing in the background is "I met a little girl" from the album "Here, my dear"

[𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐢 🗝 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢 @spirituallock]

You cannot break generational curses seeking approval from the generations that are still cursed ⚡️👁️

[Daye @traderdaye]

Why is this happening to me? ✖️

What is this teaching me? ✔️

[𝓻𝓪𝔂 @sup3rsun]

You really can’t stalk my reposts and think you’ve got me figured out because anything that’s funny is getting reposted. Whether I relate to it or not. 😭✋🏽