Drum magazine agony aunt and executive editor, Liz Khumalo, aka Sis Dolly, in the 15-minute interview. By Charl Blignaut
Charl Blignaut: You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to interview you for. I read Dear Dolly every single week.
Liz Khumalo: Oh, that’s so good to hear.
CB: For how long have you been Sis Dolly?
LK: You know, Drum has, until now, been very male dominated and for a looong time it seemed that once they had a female writer, then she must become Sis Dolly. When they ran out of females they would use freelancers to be Sis Dolly. Then I came along and it just fitted, you know. It’s been 18 years.
CB: How many letters do you get?
LK: Oh, at least 500 a week. You must see my letter box, there must be 50000 letters in there.
CB: So you don’t make up any letters? I mean, some are simply unbelievable: my penis grows permanently each time I have an erection; his sperm is too weak; she can’t love my plastic penis; all three of my men need me daily …
LK: I’ve heard it all. I’ve laughed with my letters. I’ve cried with my letters. More than anything, I’m a people’s person. I love people. Everyone is my friend. Every child is my child. The column gets the best out of my inner self. In the end, I want to feel that I am doing something for my people.
CB: For me, your column is like a barometer on the state of sex education in South Africa.
LK: We never talk about sex in black households, like Felicia says, she’s not comfortable talking to her daughter about sex. Eighty percent of my people are not versed in the matters of sex. But sex is sex. It will always be there – a way of finding joy and emotional relief.
CB: I’ve always wanted to ask Sis Dolly: what’s your own sex life like?
LK: [An astonishing shriek] Aaaaaaaaaaah! Oh God Charl no! My sex life is very healthy. I think it goes with age. You learn to be honest with each other. But, you know, I was brought up by my grandmother. I’m very conservative, still the thing remains: you have to tell it like it is, there must be communication. You must congratulate your partner if he has done a good job, and tell him where he went wrong if he didn’t. A man simply has to learn to appreciate the fact that his woman will stand up to him. He must get over this misconception that if she performs well then she learned it from someone else. Then he will beat you up. I tell you, I will keep doing my damnedest to dissuade men about this thing …
CB: And Aids?
LK: You know, nothing has changed. Sex goes on. Aids hasn’t stopped people. What we need is education. I tell people to use protection.
CB: What is the most common or garden South African male sex problem you deal with?
LK: Men. Hmmm. Their continuous sense of insecurity. All men in South Africa have this complex: He’ll literally kill a woman if she sleeps with another man. He thinks the problem is that the other man is bigger than him, you know, it starts in his mind and travels right down to his penis; so and so is bigger than me.
CB: The most common South African female sex problem?
LK: Not knowing how to communicate with their men sexually, which is more than anything because of a lack of information. For example, reaching a climax. So many women don’t even know that they can! I’ll get a letter from a 29-year-old asking, what is this female climax? It also often boils down to this selfish streak in men – they only think of satisfying themselves and then it’s over. You need to take your tiiiime, man! It’s imperative that men learn to do their homework. And women must tell them too. So many men think that their performance has to do with their size. That’s rubbish. You must talk, talk, talk. Don’t beat her up, talk!
CB: Do you get letters from men who want to beat you up because you’re putting ideas in their woman’s head?
LK: No, never. I think I have more male fans than female. I even get letters proposing marriage. You know, I’ve always had a complex about my thick lips. But then I get a letter saying, aah if only I could kiss those lips, and I feel so much better. My lips are okay after all! Once, though, a man threatened to commit suicide over me. He wrote saying I love you so much I want to imagine falling in love with you at a funeral, where everyone’s crying … Then there are the men who write and invite me to come and show them how it’s done!
CB: What do you tell prostitutes who write?
LK: [Long pause] Again, I can be very conservative when it comes to matters of sex. I’m still trying to figure out how those women cope with having a number of men inside their bodies every day. Hei, it just doesn’t feel right with me. It’s inside their bodies, man, inside.
CB: And having an abortion?
LK: It is every woman’s right to decide the life of a baby, therefore I agree with abortion. I also agree with mothers who make babies. It’s your mother’s decision. If it wasn’t hers, you wouldn’t be sitting here in my office.
CB: Tell me, what do you tell the black gays and lesbians who write to you?
LK: I always say don’t despair, the world loves you, just do me one favour and get out of the cupboard and be yourself. Everyone is equal. You may be on the street or an executive, but you are the same to me.
CB: Speaking of executives, you’re the new executive editor of Drum.
LK: Heish, it’s been a long journey.
CB: What does an executive editor do?
LK: Man, I run the Jo’burg office, I deal with my writers. You know, I’m heading towards the sunset of my career and I want to know, when I’m sitting in an old aged home, what I will have left behind to make me proud. For me, that is to impart knowledge.
CB: Your promotion makes you one of the most powerful women in South African magazines. Drum has nearly a million readers a month …
LK: You know, I walked in here as a secretary – when the wonderful Stanley Motjuwadi was still editor. He died six years ago. He was this father figure, who taught me that people are people to be respected. I convinced him that I could write a story and eventually he put me on an assignment. I’ve been in the field and I’ve watched very, very talented, ambitious women walk out of this corporation. This bloody feminism and childrenism – we’re all the same, man. There is still the belief that black men can’t be ruled by black women. The truth is we’re more capable than they are.
CB: It’s important to you to be a role model. Who are yours?
LK: Both my role models are men – Motjuwadi and everybody’s role model: President Nelson Mandela. His sufferings mean a lot to me. Seeing him come through all that, doing the Madiba jive, now walking slowly, his knees giving in, we can say: you’ve done your job. That’s what I want. But my number one role model is my mother. I had a difficult childhood, we struggled, my mother was just a domestic worker, but it didn’t deter her from being happy. She was a very strong-willed person.
CB: Did you ever think you would end up being Sis Dolly, the Dr Ruth of South Africa?
LK: Jaa. I don’t know, even at school I was very popular, good at advising my schoolmates – on how to get around the teacher and get our way. But no, I never dreamed I would be what I am.
CB: How long will you still be Sis Dolly?
LK: God help me, as long as my mind still works and my eyes can see, I will do this community service. Also, I can’t imagine my people saying to me, okay, that’s enough, we’ve learned everything there is to know about sex.