Chronicles of Fly

It was 07h00 and the loud sound of an ululating voice pulled me violently out of my sleep. I woke up tired, dazed and with a head so heavy that the taste of the whiskey that I had the previous night was still on my tongue. It was the last day of wedding preparations, Alex and I had intelligently decided to turn up three days before the wedding thinking the work would already be done. Judging by the mountain of tables, chairs and tents sitting comfortably on the back of a trailer big enough for five cows, we were mistaken. Brushing my teeth is one of those things that I do not compromise on, I ain’t about that walking around with morning breath type of life.  If you looked at my face that morning you wouldn’t think I had been up since 04h30, I woke up early to pick up my sister and her friend who had travelled overnight on the Inter-Cape bus. They were enthusiastic about the whole wedding, an enthusiasm that I for one did not share. I snuck back to sleep at 06h30, before being

I am generally a very happy go lucky kind of guy, especially on Fridays. But as my struggle with unemployment drags on like a Wambo girl’s resistance to giving up the cookie, I find myself surrounded by a deathly air of melancholy; all around me. This pensive mood laced with traces of woefulness and sorrow stalks me like vultures circling the skies above, eagerly waiting for their meal to die. It’s not my favourite feeling in the world, waking up feeling like the love child of desolation and gloom is something I hate. I probably hate it more than a vagina hates dry sex, but I have been told that I couldn’t possibly know how that feels like because I don’t have one (a vagina). All I know is that on most days, I can conquer the world; then there are those days where I see no point to my existence in this world. Yet alone the point of even waking up to another day, which is ungrateful because in this world we are all visitors; who conveniently forget that our visa can expire at any g

It was one of those days, it was a Thursday to be exact. I spent the day in Uukwanyama at Werner’s house, he was getting married the next day. 13 months earlier he had called me up, he was all excited. He was tying the knot, he told me that unless I met my end prematurely that I would be wearing a suit at the wedding. I was to be one of the grooms men. Under the cover of the desert night, I sat on top of a koppie and took it all in. I was doing my rounds on night shift at the time, how they put the geologist who can’t see in the dark on night shift is one of those things I’d like to refer to as “you got to try something at least once”.  13 months later and true to his word, the man who taught me how to slaughter a goat and mack on girls handed me a grey suit. When someone you grew up with in the same house decides that they want to commit to another human being for the rest of their lives, it really puts things in perspective. He was setting a great example, boys will be boys